


Outsider

by theblacksmith



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon - Book, Coming of Age, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, POV Alternating, Underage Rape/Non-con, Virgin Sandor Clegane, Virgin Sansa Stark, mention of non-con, not sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-03 07:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19458880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblacksmith/pseuds/theblacksmith
Summary: Excerpt:The North had never cared much for outsiders, they were a strong front full of men and women that trusted one another with their lives. Outsiders were uncommon and when they did pass through Winterfell, they were treated with a wary kindness and then sent on their way.Sandor Clegane was an outsider. Her father didn't seem to think so, taking the boy in and caring for him as one of his own. Sansa didn't trust the scarred boy that she feared more than she would ever dare say. However, with a strange turn of events, Sansa finds herself in a predicament that could destroy everything she held close.





	1. Electric Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I couldn't shake this story from my mind, so, here it is!
> 
> Sandor and Sansa have a seven-year age difference just to clarify. I tried to do as much research as I could, forgive me if I get certain things wrong. I'm all for constructive criticism and help in letting me know if I need to fix something. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, this story does not follow the same timeline as any of the books or show. It's pretty much an alternative universe.  
> If you are reading my other story, 'All I ever wanted', yes, I will be updating soon. This story is going to be short and I'm just having fun with it :)
> 
> Much love! <3

**_Now you've got me so confused_ **  
**_'Cause I don't know how to sing your blues_ **  
**_Jesus Christ, what could I do?_ **  
**_I don't know how to sing your blues_ **

**_∞_ **

The North had never cared much for outsiders, they were a strong front full of men and women that trusted one another with their lives. Outsiders were uncommon and when they did pass through Winterfell, they were treated with a wary kindness and then sent on their way. Sansa was a mere girl of seven when she was startled out of her sleep by the banging on their castle doors.

She felt the small hand of her sister Arya, grab at her shift. The moonlight cast shadows over them, revealing the terrified look in her sister's silver orbs. Sometimes Sansa was frightened by her sister's eyes, so much like a wolf that she wondered if she would transform under the full moon into the beast that was their sigil. Sansa calmed her racing heart and cradled her sister to her side. "There is nothing to fear baby sister. Father will keep us safe."

The door to their room is thrown open causing both of them to shriek and hold onto one another more dearly. When their older brother Robb walked in with their bastard brother Jon, they both relaxed and waited for them to speak.

"Keep an eye on them, Jon," Robb said leaving the room without another word to spare.

Jon simply nodded, a small smile graced his handsome face as he drew closer and sat at the edge of their bed. Arya immediately fled from Sansa's embrace and threw her arms around Jon's neck, she had always had a fondness for him more than Sansa ever had. Sansa cradled her knees to her chest, worried for her father and brother. She prayed that her baby brother Bran and dear mother were also safe wherever they may be. They all waited patiently until finally, their mother appeared in the door, her robe wrapped tightly around her as she held Bran who lay asleep soundly in her arms.

Sansa noticed the tightness in her mother's shoulders that was not due to carrying Bran. She walked into the room casting a look at Jon who held Arya close. Sansa knew that there was no love for the boy from her mother, they had been told by their father to treat him all the same as their other siblings. Their mother could not be swayed to do as such. Lifting her gaze she began to speak. "It is a boy. He is injured and too frightened to speak. He will stay with us until he is restored to full health and then he will leave. Until then, children, be wary of him. He is not a small boy by any means."

Her mother held Bran closer to her bosom, fear flitting across her face quickly replaced by a distant smile. "Now, back to sleep, all of you." On that note, she turned and left the room. Jon pressed a kiss to Arya's forehead, murmuring gentle words to her before he too took his leave and gently shut the door behind him.

With Arya's soft snores filling her ears Sansa fought away her curiosity about the boy who had wound up in Winterfell and found sleep.

∞

The morning light filtered into the room of the Stark girl's casting it in a warm hue. Septa Mordane was already filling their copper tub with warm water when Sansa awoke and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Arya stirred beside her and Sansa smiled down at her combing a wild strand of brown hair from her face. She loved her baby sister so very much and could not imagine a world without her. The little girl was nothing like her, shying away from needlework and the ramblings of being a lady that their Septa seemed destined to instill in them. Her sister was merely a babe and Sansa wanted to keep her that way as long as she could to the dismay of their Septa.

Sansa ignored the ramblings of Septa Mordane as she washed quickly and dried off just as fast. She pulled on her smallclothes in haste and allowed her Septa to pull a long-sleeved, baby blue gown over her head. Septa Mordane shook her head in distaste at the way Sansa tugged on her boots and bid her a quick goodbye as she raced out of the bedroom she shared with Arya.

"Where are you running off to in such haste?" Robb said eating up her steps due to his long legs. It was a trait that seemed to run in their family due to their mother and father both being tall. Sansa was already quite tall for a girl of seven, something she was quite proud of to the disdain of her brothers. She hardly could shut up about how someday she may tower over the lot of them. They always deemed to put her in her place after that with endless tickling.

"I'm off to break fast," she said in a haughty tone, tipping her nose up at him.

A sly grin appeared on his face. "I think you're off to see the newest addition to the Stark household."

Sansa flushed at his accusatory tone and tried to hasten her steps to distance herself from him. It proved to be futile. "You speak nonsense."

"Jon saw him this morning, told me that he almost lost control of his bowels at the sight of him."

Sansa cast him a disgusted grimace. "You shouldn't speak that way."

"I only speak the truth of our dear brother."

"Jon likes to speak of tall-tales."

They arrived in the dining hall, their mother was absent. However, their father sat eating, keeping his steel-colored eyes trained on the boy who sat across from him. A servant stood idly by, when she saw Sansa and Robb, she bowed and went off to grab them something to eat as well. Robb took a seat beside their father, identical as they sat side by side.

Sansa warily strode to sit next to her brother, their servant walked back in and placed their food before them, taking her stand back in the corner of the room. Sansa finally lifted her gaze to take in the boy that had banged on their doors in the middle of the night. Unprepared for what she was to see, she gasped, the fork she held in her hand clattered to the floor.

The entire left side of the boy's face was a ruin of scarred, black flesh, filled with craters that threatened to make her lose the meager contents inside her stomach. She had never seen someone burned so badly before, had never seen anything so terribly ugly and frightening in her life. He noticed her bewildered expression, a large, scarred hand quickly grasped at his midnight hair and covered the twisted mass of burns from her sight. He lowered his grey eyes to the plate of food before him but made no moves to eat.

"Sansa," her father spoke breaking her stare. "Have you no manners?" He practically growled, clenching his hand around his fork to the point she feared it might break.

"Pardon me, father. I meant no offense."

"It is you father who is being rude by making no introductions," Robb spoke up. "You expect Sansa to not be frightened by the _monster_ you dragged into our home."

Sansa noticed the boy visibly wince at the name Robb called him. He fumbled with the strings at the front of his roughspun tunic, the material seemed to be about to burst at the seams with the way it clung to his broad shoulders and wide chest. She wondered how old he was if mother had called him a boy. To her, he appeared a man.

"I am your father, boy. Do not _dare_ speak to me in such a way again."

Robb cowered away from the intensity of their father's tone and nodded as he turned back to his food knowing better to stand against their father again.

"Sandor, these are my children, Robb is my oldest at eleven, and Sansa is my third oldest at seven, Please, introduce yourself."

"Sandor Clegane,” he rasped in a deep, husky voice that made Sansa shiver in fear. “I’m fourteen and hail from the Westerlands.”

"Nice to meet you," Robb grumbled, mouth full.

"Nice to meet you," Sansa said, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice.

Sandor merely nodded and continued to stare at his food like it would be the one to eat him instead. They sat in relative silence until finally their father sent them away and took the boy along with him.

Sansa didn't know what would happen to the boy once he was back to full health but she prayed night after night that he would do so quickly and leave Winterfell and never return.

∞

"Sandor will be staying with us indefinitely."

Sansa lay awake hearing her father's words play on repeat inside her head. It had only been a month that the boy had been staying with them and he already proved himself to be a worthy warrior. He was able to knock down the most skilled fighters- several years older than him- with an ease that scared her. For a boy of his height and mass, he moved swiftly and elegantly even with the armor her father had forged for him weighing him down.

Sansa had feared that her father had grown a liking to him and it had been proven at dinner that he would not be sent on his way like most outsiders. She didn't understand why her father would keep him around. The scarred boy terrified her, so much so, that she had nightmares of him and woke up in cold sweats clinging to Arya. Arya had grown tired of her constant clinging that she had taken to sleeping in her own featherbed near the window, away from Sansa.

She couldn't blame her sister but she could blame her lord father for allowing such a vile beast to eat at their table. All she could truly be thankful for was that he was sent to sleep in the tower room, far from the lot of them.

∞

"A direwolf?" Sansa exclaimed as her father placed the little grey pup in her arms.

"One for each of you Stark's," Theon said proudly. She smiled modestly at him and turned her attention back to her father.

"I thank you, father. This is a most generous gift."

"You best take care of her."

"Rickon is only five, how will he care for his pup?" Sansa questioned.

"The boy has already taken a liking to his. Don't you worry about him. You just worry about yourself." He lovingly tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead before taking his leave.

Theon sidled up to her, a strange grin on his face that made Sansa wary of him. The boy had been the son of a traitor and her father had always had a soft spot for innocents, reason why the boy became his ward. Still, he always made her uneasy, something she couldn't find the strength to tell her father. "You best listen to your father," he murmured, smoothing a hand over her direwolf's fur much too close to her chest. "I would hate to see her become wild and be put down."

Her red brows furrowed at the boys' cruel words. "Why would you say such a thing?" She clung tighter to the wolf as he lowered his mouth an inch from her own. Sansa could smell the stench of old milk on his breath, it made her want to gag. She forced the bile that rose in her throat down. His hand buried itself in her hair and tugged hard on the strands eliciting a whimper from her lips.

"You have grown so lovely. I would find my cock inside that tight cunt of yours if I could."

"You're hurting me," she cried, trying to pull away from him.

"I will have you one way or ano-" His words cut off and she watched his eyes widen, brows practically touching his hairline.

He let go of her, stumbling backward away from her. She startled when Sandor moved from where he stood behind her, wearing nothing but his wool breeches, and dark, roughspun tunic that enhanced his menacing form. She hadn’t even sensed his presence, he was a silent predator, a wolf in plain sight. He said nothing as he grabbed Theon by his tunic, the boy struggled against him, crying out in horror when he is lifted off the ground. His feet kick out trying to hurt Sandor, the attempts are futile, and he screams so loud it pierces Sansa’s ear, the breath leaving him when he is slammed against the stone of the castle. Sansa can only hear the blood pounding in her ears as she watched Sandor hold Theon against the wall with one hand and use the other to land blow after blow into his face. Sansa can feel her wolf trembling in her hold.

"What is going on?" Robb bellowed charging at Sandor grasping onto his wrist to stop his fist. Sandor let out an animalistic sound that had Robb taking a step back, her wolf tilted her head back and let out a howl that snapped Sandor's attention towards her. Sansa gulped at the wild look in his eyes that were now molten lava instead of the stormy grey she was used to after all these years.

Sandor let go of Theon, the boy dropped like a ragdoll to the ground, face covered in blood. Sandor's chest heaved up and down, his breaths ragged and harsh as he stared at Sansa. With one last look at the wolf in her arms, he stormed off. Robb yelled for him to come back but did not go after him. He sighed and turned to check Theon's pulse.

"He's alive."

"Good," Sansa mumbled half-heartedly, unable to shake what Theon had said to her and the rage that she had witnessed Sandor inflict on said boy.

"Why did Sandor do this to him?" Robb demanded more than asked.

"I don't know." Sansa was lying but she was too afraid to speak the truth. Theon had been vile with her but Sandor had saved her from him. She didn’t know who truly deserved to be condemned.

"Don't you dare lie to me, sister," he snapped, stomping over to stand before her.

"I'm telling the truth.”

He narrowed his eyes at her but did not ask any further questions.

"I will call upon father and you will tell the truth." He said with finality and stalked over to help Theon up. He led him into the castle and Sansa finally exhaled the breath she had been holding.

"It is okay little lady. You are safe." Sansa whispered to her wolf hoping the words would ring true.

∞

He stood before the Lord and Lady of the North, doing his best to not shift uneasily from side to side. The blood of Theon still stood proud against the tan of his skin. He waited for Lord Stark to speak _and waited and waited_ until _finally_ the Lord showed him some mercy and spoke.

"Do you understand why you stand before me today, Sandor?" Ned asked, his steely eyes betraying no emotion.

"Yes, my lord."

"Why would you do such a terrible act of violence against Theon?"

Sandor gritted his teeth, trying to work the correct way to say what he needed to say. He wasn't daft as much thought him to be, he often found himself in the Stark's vast library reading whatever he could get his hands on. Sometimes he would read books he saw Sansa reading. Books about fair maidens and knights that always won the girl through some noble deed. He laughed to the point of tears whenever he read said books. Then the laughing stopped when he decided to pick up another one of the books he caught her reading. The book spoke of dirty things that caused him to blush and get hot all over. Those times he would take himself in hand and imagine how it would be like to touch a woman and feel her lips pressed against his own. Sometimes he envisioned her pale skin becoming flushed as she read those filthy words, he wanted to know why she read them in the first place. She was always trying so hard to be a proper lady and a proper lady definitely did not read such filthy-

"Sandor?" Ned said snapping Sandor from his racing thoughts. His gaze flitted to Catelyn, her lips in a thin line of displeasure and eyes cold as ice as she judged him from where she was perched. He flushed in shame tearing his gaze from hers to stare back at the floor.

"He was hurting Lady Sansa."

"Hurting Sansa?" Catelyn said in disbelief.

"Yes, my lady." Sandor's fists were clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms and knuckles had turned white.

"Why ever would Theon hurt Sansa? She is like a sister to him! You speak lies!" Catelyn shouted the words like a whip against his skin. He cowered from her anger as if he weren't some 6'7 giant with a body layered in pure muscle.

"Settle yourself, Catelyn. Sandor, do you speak the truth?"

"Yes, my lord. I would not lie to you. I saw him holding Sansa and I heard what he said to her."

"What did he say?"

"He said he would have her one way or another." He decided it best to finish what Theon was about to say to ensure his truth.

"Sansa, come here," Ned said loud and clear. Sandor lifted his head to see Sansa walking stiffly over to her father, her wolf at her heels. He could still hear its howl ringing in his ears, such a small thing walking on wobbly legs, and yet, it had struck fear in him all the same. The wolf would grow and one day be capable of ending a man's life. There were six of these beasts in Winterfell now, an army of their own. He did not know the loyalty of such creatures but hoped Ned's decision didn't come back to bite him, quite literally.

"Does Sandor speak the truth, dear daughter?"

Sansa's blue orbs landed on him and he went rigid seeing the way she was still perturbed by his burned face. He saw the way she looked at him when she thought he couldn't see. She always stared at him like he was a monster and it angered him. He wanted the little bird to look him straight in the eyes and not fear him. He would never hurt her.

"He does," she said in a small, shaky voice.

Ned dismissed Sandor.

The next day Theon was gone along with Ned, Robb, Jon, and Bran.

He didn't need to think too hard to know the fate of the boy.

∞

"You'll never win, Sansa!" Jeyne taunted as she ran ahead of Sansa towards the Godswood.

Sansa huffed and puffed doing everything in her power to catch up with the small, dark-haired girl she called her best friend. They had been inseparable for ages now, both girls of fifteen who shared common interests such as talk of boys and needlework. Jeyne giggled madly as Sansa struggled to catch up until finally they reached the heart tree both gasping for air.

"You are not fair," Sansa said with a teasing lilt.

"For a girl with such long legs, you sure are slow."

Sansa's eyes widened and she began to chase after the girl once again. Jeyne stopped suddenly, her laugh dying off, causing Sansa to stop and look over her friend's shoulder. Her chest tightened when she saw the courser that could belong only to one man. The handsome black stallion was as frightening as his master with a blazing temper to match. She had heard many stories about stable boys almost losing a finger to the horse due to getting too close to him or his master. He was protective of Sandor and had no quarrel in kicking or biting at anyone that sought to go after his master. He reminded her of shaggy-dog, Rickon's direwolf, that was always lashing out at people, the only wolf out of the lot that could not seem to be tamed and only listened to Rickon.

"We should go," Sansa whispered, frightened to be caught by the man who had only grown crueler and larger with the passing years.

"Not yet." Jeyne tugged Sansa by the wrist behind a tree.

"We shouldn't be here. If he finds us he will-"

"You are a lady, a _highborn_ , he is the sworn shield of the Stark's. He would never harm you," she hissed and waved her hand to quiet Sansa.

"Why are we even here?"

"I've never seen him bare before. I'm curious."

Sansa's cheeks burned with embarrassment hearing her friend's blatant comment and she cast her eyes down in shame to think she was about to spy on Sandor. "This is an invasion of his privacy. As your lady, I demand we go."

Jeyne eyed her coolly, enough so that it chilled Sansa's heated blood. "I will leave once I've seen what the infamous Hound looks like without his armor."

Sansa had always hated the name bestowed upon Sandor due to him obeying the commands of all the Starks. He had beat up a boy because Rickon thought it funny and had commanded him to. He had asked for a girl to meet Robb in the Godswood because the boy had commanded it. Jon only asked for simple things as did Bran. Arya had commanded that Sandor start training her in the art of sword fighting, so he did. He wound up with fifteen lashes across is back because mother refused for her daughter to be anything but a lady. Sandor took the lashings without wincing or crying out. He earned the name Hound that day due to him simply pulling his tunic back over his head and bowing to the woman that had commanded it be done to him. Father did not speak to mother for a week after that incident. His fondness for Sandor was not blind to anybody. He treated Sandor more like a son than a sworn shield. It irked her mother more than Jon Snow ever had.

Sansa never asked for anything from Sandor. She feared him and couldn't stand to look upon his face for more than a second before she cast her eyes away in disgust. He was not a handsome man and she would never have a change of mind on the matter.

Sansa went to grab Jeyne but stopped short when Sandor placed his hands on the ground and pulled himself out of the hot spring with little effort. Once on his feet, Stranger immediately darted towards him, softly nickering as he pressed his muzzle to Sandor's chest. The laugh that escaped Sandor made Sansa go rigid. It was boyish and not as grating to the ears as his normal laugh always seemed to be. It was affectionate and inviting, unlike anything she had ever heard from the imposing man. Sandor's massive hand stroked Stranger's muzzle, whispering to the horse, a secret only the two of them shared.

"My god, he is massive," Jeyne whispered.

Sansa was shocked out of her perusal of the love he shared for his horse and thrown back into the reality of why they were still here in the first place. Sandor let go of his horse, smoothing his midnight hair from his face, and Sansa's mouth went dry at the way his biceps flexed with the movement. She had always known that Sandor was a heavily-muscled man just from the way his tunic's always seemed like they were struggling not to burst open. However, she hadn't ever envisioned what he might look like beneath layers of clothing. His body was lethal, showcasing how easy it would be for him to take the life of another's with just his hands. She remembered how he had almost killed Theon with said hands. She shivered at the thought but it wasn’t purely in discontent.

She had seen men without the constriction of clothing before, yet, none of them had ever looked like him. His chest was covered in black hair, it came as a surprise. She had expected him to be bare like her brothers. The hair didn't stop there though, a light smattering stood out against the muscles of his stomach, a thin, neat layer of midnight hair lead down to-

She bit at her lip not allowing her eyes to drift any further. The sight of him bare sparked something that lay dormant inside of her, a flood of heat settled low in her belly, and shame flooded her when she felt wetness leak out of her.

"Look at the size of his cock," Jeyne said in bewilderment. "Do you think that would ever fit in a woman?"

"I will not look," Sansa hissed, wishing to slap her friend upside the head for her lack of modesty. Proper ladies would never dare utter such things nor would they be caught dead spying on men whilst they bathed. If her Septa were here she would be spanking the two of them with a wooden paddle for their indiscretions. Her father would look upon her with shame and her mother would no doubt cast her aside and cry to the gods why she was given two girls who could not act like proper highborn ladies.

Sansa had heard the dirty word that men called their lower anatomy but she had never heard a woman say it before. She stood affronted that Jeyne could say such a thing so carelessly. "You should also not use such a horrible word for it."

"Cock? That's what it is, _my lady_ ," Jeyne teased and stuck her tongue out at Sansa, turning her eyes back to Sandor. "Oh, bugger, he put his breeches back on."

"Jeyne, you speak not as a lady should."

"I am not sworn to any man as of yet. I will call myself a lady when the time demands it."

"Who goes there?" Sandor called out startling the girls to the point Jeyne lost her balance and fell to the ground in plain sight of him.

"Run." Without another word, Jeyne had stumbled back onto her feet and ran as fast as she could. Sansa looked after her about to make the same escape but she had waited too long, that moment of hesitation had Sandor's looming form stood before her casting her in his shadow.

"Sansa?" He asked, confused. He looked to where Jeyne was already far gone and back down at her. Sansa trembled before him, having nowhere to run now that she had been caught.

"Ser, I can explain," she insisted.

He sneered down at her, his lips curling in a cruel, ugly way that made her whimper. He grabbed her arm causing her to cry out as he dragged her out into the open, away from the tree that had been her cover. Stranger whinnied and stomped his feet on the ground at the sight of her.

"Easy, boy," Sandor snapped and the horse settled down.

"Ser, you're hurting me!"

"Ser? I am no _ser_ , I'm a dog, don't you remember?" He snarled yanking her towards him. She struggled against him, feeling the fur that covered his chest pressed against the skin of her closed fist. He was still dripping wet, droplets from his ebony hair fell upon her mixing with her tears.

" _Please_ , let me go." She trembled with fear, praying to the old gods that he would let her be.

"Look at me," he rasped. When she refused to do so, his voice came out louder and harsher. " _Look at me_!"

She slowly raised her eyes up the length of his scarred neck, craning her head back to meet his gaze. His grey eyes burned with an intensity she had never seen before when he looked upon her. "You have known me all these years and you still can't bear to look at me. You are the only Stark that refuses to meet my gaze or ask anything of me. Do I frighten you so much, little bird?"

Sansa didn't dare look away, for the first time since she met him she assessed his face, not just the burnt side but the side that had been left unscathed. She was surprised to find it not as unsightly as she had previously thought. He may never be conventionally handsome, still, she couldn't help but linger on his strong jaw that she had seen take plenty of punches over the years. He had sharp cheekbones which only sufficed to heighten the curvature of his heavy brow. He had the face of a man that would have been quite lovely if fate hadn't been against him.

She was afraid of him she realized in that moment. He had a frightening beauty to him that was beginning to confuse her. Sandor was not like the boys that followed after her, no, he was a man, a man that held her too tightly and too close. She feared what he could do to her. They were alone and she didn't know if Jeyne would even tell anyone where they had been due to her own fear of being caught.

"You do frighten me, Sandor," she confessed.

He lowered his face towards her, much like the time Theon did. However, he did not reek of old milk, no, he smelled of Dornish wine. It did not bother her as much as she thought it would. "I would never harm you. It's best you get that through your pretty little head." She felt his words ghost across her lips and for a moment she believed he would steal a kiss. He did not. He abruptly let go of her and turned away from her. "You shouldn't spy on men, little bird. Most wouldn't leave you intact if they were to catch you."

She flushed at the meaning behind his words, staring at his scarred back, the same scars her mother had given to him with a simple command. Unable to form words, she ran off and refused to look back. Whatever was starting to bubble up inside her due to Sandor's proximity could only bring bad things upon the Stark household.

∞


	2. Give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for everybody who left a comment on this story! They were so amazing to read and I appreciated every word <3
> 
> Much love <3
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> This chapter does have a scene of rape. No, not of Sansa.   
> I just wanted to make it known just in case. I would hate to offend anybody or make anyone feel uncomfortable.

**_Soon before the sun_ **   
**_Before the sun begins to rise_ **   
**_I know that I, I must give_ **   
**_So that I, I can live_ **

**_∞_ **

The Great Hall is in an uproar of celebration for Robb Stark who has decided to take the wench he has been fooling around with for his wife. The noise is deafening, full of the mindless chatter of drunken men looking for a piece of ass and foolish women that care none to be bedded by such men. Sandor raised his flagon of wine to his lips and took a hearty drink, desperate to drown out such noise. A small amount of wine slipped out the burnt side of his mouth and he quickly wiped it away not wanting anyone to see the embarrassing display.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to go rigid. No one in their right mind dared to touch him, not even when they were drunk. He cast a dark look over his shoulder to see it is just Jon. "Mind if I join you?"

"You can do as you please," Sandor grumbled, waving a hand at the open seat next to him.

Jon sat with his back to the table, the wine in his gold cup sloshed over, and he merely laughed licking the fallen wine off his hand. He casually placed his elbow on the table with the air of someone who was trying very hard to pretend they weren't as drunk as they are. A lazy smile appeared on Jon's face aimed at Sandor. Sandor sneered at him. "Is something wrong with you, boy?"

Jon laughed even harder to the point Sandor was sure wine would come out his nose. Jon patted Sandor's shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze. "You are funny, brother. You call me a boy when you are only three years older than me."

Sandor's burnt brow drew in at the middle in confusion. He was not used to any of the Stark's being this friendly with him beside Ned. Catelyn hated him, he was sure he was going to end up with a sword in his back or a slit throat by one of her commands. Robb only fancied talking to him when he needed something, such as getting a message to his lady love. Bran hardly spoke to him and when he did he was always wary of him. He caught the boy often casting him strange looks like he knew something that Sandor didn't know himself. Sandor would never admit it but the boy struck a bit of fear in him.

Rickon was as wild as his direwolf, a bit twisted in the head. Sandor didn't fancy the child whatsoever, not ever since he was commanded to beat up a boy that had accidentally tripped Rickon. He saw the demented glee in Rickon's eyes the moment first blood was shed. When Rickon asked him to do such a thing again, he refused, and he knew the boy had been close to siccing his wolf on him. Arya, she was a different breed all on her own. She didn't seem to like or dislike him. He admired her strength and her absolute hatred for the pleasantries that are expected of highborn ladies. Sansa…well, he didn't know what the little bird thought of him. He saw fear in her eyes and then curiosity a moment later. It confused him, so he decided it best not to think too hard about it. Jon talked to him in passing but had never been this friendly with him before. He figured it was due to him being drunk off his ass.

"Yes, three years older and ten inches taller." The joke was bland and came off more sarcastic than teasing but Jon seemed to like it all the same. He let out a boisterous laugh that caught the attention of others. Sandor lowered his gaze to the table, he knew how the people of Winterfell felt about him, and outsiders would never be welcome.

"It's not my fault I was cursed to be short. I guess I don't have the Stark gene after all and you Sandor," eyes black as coal wandered over him, "Well, I don't know how in the seven hells you are so tall. Are you sure you don't have giant's blood?" He teased and took a messy swig of his wine.

"I doubt I have giant's blood. I was just cursed to be both ugly and tall to ensure that I remain feared by all for eternity." The words came out more bitter than he would have liked and he finished off his flagon of wine to replace it with the sour taste instead.

"You are not ugly, Sandor."

Sandor glared at the boy with his raven locks, big, puppy dog eyes, and face devoid of any type of imperfections. The boy was prettier than most women. "Do not taunt me, boy. I have no quarrel beating you bloody."

Jon tilted his head to the side, perusing Sandor's face sufficing to make him terribly uncomfortable. "You have the strangest color eyes. I always thought Arya's were quite strange, like a wolf. Yours are a mix of silver and grey creating this blend that is quite mesmerizing. You have strong features that make you look like a man versus I who has the masculinity of an adolescent boy. You may have scars, Sandor, but that doesn't classify you as ugly or someone who should be feared. If people gave you a chance they would see your soul is more gentle than most." 

"You have a crush on me, boy?" Sandor chuckled, shaking his head at the silly words Jon had just spouted.

"I like girls just as much as any other hot-blooded male. Still, I think sometimes someone has to talk some sense into you. I don't see you even trying to go after a woman. Do you not fancy anybody?"

Sandor found her across the room at that moment. Her vibrant, red hair flowed around her perfect face in gentle waves. Her face was flushed due to the wine she no doubt drank. Her dresses had become less modest as the years passed. Now a girl of seventeen she dared to wear dresses with plunging necklines that laced up the front. The one she wore tonight was a short-sleeved red number with gold flowers embroidered onto it. The laces were pulled tight up the front causing her breasts to push together in such an enticing way that he had half a mind to take her into a dark corner of the castle and have his way with her. She had grown into a woman, a woman that made him hungry with the desire to touch her, to taste her, to do anything she would allow him to do to her. She would never look at him in any way but fear though. It was a fools dream to think otherwise. 

"She has grown into a lovely woman, hasn't she?"

Sandor snapped his head over to Jon having forgotten the boy was still there. "What?"

"Sansa, she is quite a beautiful woman, don't you think so?" Jon repeated, his gaze unwavering as he waited for Sandor to answer him.

"She's a child," Sandor grunted and averted his gaze back to the table. He needed more wine so he could retire to his chambers and be done with this bloody night.

"Sansa is seventeen, she is a woman. She wouldn't take kindly to being called otherwise."

"I could care less about what the impudent child wants." The words cut like a thousand knives in his throat. Still, he can't let anyone know of his fondness for Sansa, it would be troublesome and Catelyn might truly send for his head if she found out. If she only knew the things he dreamt of doing to her daughter he would already have his head on a pike.

"I know what you're doing, Sandor. You can fool everybody else but you cannot fool me."

Sandor put on his most vicious smile, the one that usually had people scampering away from him. Jon stayed fixed where he sat and quirked a dark brow at him. "You don't scare me."

Sandor lowered his voice, getting too close for comfort towards Jon. Jon didn't flinch or blink. "I don't know what game you're playing at but I don't want to play it." Standing up abruptly, he knocked into the table causing a couple of wine cups to fall over. It managed to catch the attention of almost _every-single-bloody-person_ in the Great Hall. Growling under his breath, he threw his leg over the bench and then the other casting Jon one last warning look before taking his leave forgoing the wine he desperately wanted.

His skin was overheating, so much so, he found himself heading straight to the stables where his only friend in Winterfell would be. The stable boy lay asleep soundly on a stack of hay completely unaware of Sandor's presence. For a man of his stature, he had always been quiet-footed; walking past the boy without waking him up was an easy feat. Sandor went straight to Stranger's stall; the horse nickered softly as if knowing they needed to be quiet. Sandor opened the stall door and Stranger immediately pressed his muzzle into his neck, making soft sounds that warmed Sandor's, cold heart.

Sandor led him out of the stable, mounting him without going through the trouble of putting on a saddle. Sandor had been riding horses since he was a young boy and had learned how to ride bareback long ago without a bridle. He combed his hand over Stranger's mane and gently took a handful, lowering his chest closer to him to keep his balance. They were so in tune with one another that Stranger knew instantly what that meant and began to run at a speed that cooled Sandor's heated skin.

They wound up at the Godswood tree, racing past it to stop at the hot springs, Sandor's favorite place to be in the entirety of Winterfell. Nuzzling his face into Stranger's mane, he pat his neck before dismounting and shredding himself of his tunic, breeches, and boots. He sank into the warm water and felt relief wash over him. He didn't know what was inside the water of the hot springs but it always sufficed to calm him.

Sometimes while he was here he dreamed of escaping the castle walls of Winterfell and finding somewhere warm to live where endless winters didn't exist and he didn't have to feel the chill of the people who continued to cast him as an outsider. Whenever those thoughts came they always disappeared just as quickly due to her. As much as he was loathed to admit- he cared deeply for the girl with the flame-colored hair. He would accept being burned if it meant he could reach out and touch her, feel her red locks wrapped around his fist as he pressed his lips to hers.

With a heavy groan, he sunk his fingers into his hair and shook his head trying to deter the dangerous thoughts taking a life of their own. He had no right to think of the little bird in such a way. He would never have her for his own no matter how much he begged to silly old gods that most likely didn't even exist. Stranger could sense Sandor's distress. He started to pace back and forth making noises as he did so.

Sandor pulled himself out of the water to ease Stranger's fretting over him. He couldn't help but laugh at how much his horse cared about him. Sometimes he was sure Stranger was a human trapped in a horse body. Stranger whinnied and sat his muzzle on Sandor's shoulder nickering as he did so.

"I wish I could understand you, my friend. You're the only one I can talk to who actually seems to care about what I say."

The horse let out a huffing sound and Sandor smiled. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I'm fine." Sandor pats his flank and moved to pull his clothes back on; he had just pulled his tunic over his head when he heard a scream. The sound chilled him to the core and before he could think twice about it, he was running to where the continued crying out was coming from. It is near the Godswood tree that he sees a girl with her face pressed to the dirt, her nails clawing at the ground in an attempt to escape as a man holds her down, doing the inexplicable to her. Sandor sees red charging the man, he sees dark eyes widen unprepared for what is about to happen to him. Sandor tears the man off of the girl and snaps his neck with ease, tossing him to the side.

Sandor takes frantic breaths in and out to calm himself. The girl is sobbing, curled up in a ball when he finally stared down at her. His heart dropped to his stomach at the realization of who the girl is. It is Jeyne, the best friend of Sansa. She raised her eyes to his and he is surprised to see no fear in her eyes but relief instead. With a trembling hand, she tried to pull her ruined dress together to maintain her modesty.

" _Please_ , don't look, my lord," she whispered, the shame evident in her expression.

Sandor lowered to his knee, he didn't know how to console her. He had never been good with comforting people and she had just been taken against her will, there were no words that could erase that pain. "May I pick you up?"

Her eyes flitted between his. She seemed as surprised as him with how gentle his voice had sounded in that moment. "Yes, my lord."

Sandor didn't have the heart to tell her that he wasn't a bloody lord, not after everything she had been through. He placed a hand on her back feeling her go rigid at the touch. He cursed under his breath as he slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her into his arms. She was so small and felt so fragile that it pained him to think anyone could do what had just been done to her. She continued to hold her dress together and laid her cheek to his chest, curling up like a child in his arms. "You're warm," she murmured before she fell asleep. He didn't understand why the girl trusted him to do such a thing but strangely it tugged at a part of him he didn't know existed.

Stranger followed him as they made their way back to the castle where the celebration still raged on. Stranger headed towards the stables as Sandor headed inside. He didn't know where to go or where to take her. All he knew was he needed to have Maester Luwin check to make sure she would be okay. It was then that a drunk Jon stumbled out of the doors and spotted him. Without hesitation, Sandor walked to him.

"I need to see Maester Luwin," he said watching Jon's brows furrow in confusion.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jon asked trying to grasp on to what was happening.

"She was raped. I need to see Maester Luwin." Sandor hated repeating himself and Jon was too bloody drunk to offer any help. "Find Sansa for me."

Jon simply nodded and stumbled back into the Great Hall. The girl remained sound asleep in his arms as he waited patiently for Sansa. Moments later she appeared and her eyes widened at seeing Jeyne in his arms. "What happened?" she asked bewildered.

"She was raped. We need to get her to Maester Luwin."

" _Raped_?" She whispered tears forming at her eyes as she reached out to place a hand on her friend's arm.

"Yes."

"What of the man?" Her big, blue eyes peered up at him, not wavering in their stare. It made him shift from side to side. He wasn't used to her being able to make eye contact with him for more than a few seconds.

"Dead."

Sansa didn't flinch, she merely told him to follow her. They wound up in her chambers, a place Sandor had never stepped foot inside of. He felt strange being allowed inside, a man like himself had no right to be here, and he flushed in shame. Sansa didn't seem to notice his hesitance, sending a handmaid to fetch the Maester, and telling Sandor to lay Jeyne on her bed. The bed had blue covers and multi-colored furs to provide extra warmth during the frigid nights. He lay Jeyne down as gently as he could, Sansa came up beside him wiping at the dirt that stained the girl's face. Sandor felt uneasy being here and made to leave.

"Sandor?" Hearing the sound of his name coming from her pretty lips had him stopping dead in his tracks. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"I shouldn't be here," he muttered, keeping his eyes trained ahead of him, only a few steps from being completely out of her room.

"Please, wait for Luwin to arrive and tend to Jeyne. We must discuss this with my father and mother."

He wanted to lash out at her and tell her he was burning from the inside out being in this room, where she bathed, slept, and did only the gods know what. His heart pounded hard and fast in his chest making him feel like he was going to collapse from the overwhelming emotions crashing down on him. With a brisk nod, he found himself in a corner of her room, his arms folded across his chest. He stared at the ground wishing it would open up and swallow him whole. He was breaking out into a cold sweat, and yet, his skin felt as if it were on fire, a feeling he despised.

The Maester did not keep them waiting long. He appeared carrying supplies and quickly set them on the wooden nightstand next to Sansa's featherbed. Jeyne awoke when Luwin pressed his hand to her forehead, she moaned miserably. "It hurts," she cried grabbing onto her belly.

"I know, darling girl. Here, this is milk of the poppy. It will ease your pain. I need to check if there are any injuries. Just relax." He helped her drink the medicine down and it wasn't long before she was asleep again. Sandor saw what the Maester was about to do and snapped his eyes back to the ground.

"She was a maiden," Luwin said to Sansa. "She will be sore for a few days but she will heal. She did not sustain any further injuries."

"That _bastard_ ," Sansa hissed. Sandor couldn't help but raise his eyes to where she stood practically shaking with rage. Her hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles bleeding into white, and her jaw was clenched so tight he swore she would crack a tooth.

Maester Luwin pulled the covers over Jeyne and moved to where Sansa stood tenderly placing his hands on her shoulders. "Dear girl, she will heal both mind and body because she has you by her side." His tone was sympathetic and kindhearted but he could see it irked Sansa. Her enchanting blue eyes were wild in the dim candlelight.

"He stole her maidenhead! She can _never_ get that back! He has _ruined_ her for any man that would wish to marry her. Do you believe any man will believe that she was raped? They will think her a common whore!"

The elderly man squeezed her shoulders. "Sansa, you must not let this anger consume you. Your lord father and lady mother will know how to handle this situation. You must trust them and your friend needs you. That is what is most important."

Sansa regarded him coolly. "Thank you for your help, Luwin. I will have my handmaidens care for her in my absence. Sandor, we must speak to my father and mother."

Luwin let go of her and she exited the room, Sandor followed close behind her doing everything in his power to not admire the way her dress hugged her every curve. They arrived at the Great Hall once more, Sandor waited as Sansa went up to where her father and mother sat, lowering her mouth to her father's ear to tell him what had happened. A grave expression appeared on his face and he told Catelyn who also became pale in the face. They stood, excusing themselves from the high table and that is how they all wound up in the room where they normally discussed matters of war. 

"Tell us what happened, Sandor," Ned insisted and slumped down into a chair.

"I was at the hot springs when I heard a scream. I ran towards the sound and found a man holding Jeyne down," Sandor stopped, hating to have to say what he saw, images he wanted to be erased from his mind, "He was raping her. I broke his neck and he died instantly. I carried her to the castle and asked Jon to get Sansa. The Maester cared for her."

Ned placed his elbows on his thighs and covered his face with his hands. Vayon Poole had always been a loyal steward to Ned, all knew of that and whether Ned would confess it or not, it was known they had been close friends for a long time. "We will have to call upon Vayon and let him know of this."

"You honestly believe he is telling the truth?" Catelyn asked incredulously. Her icy gaze landed on Sandor.

He inhaled on a sharp breath, it felt like daggers in his throat when he tried to exhale and swallow down the bile that had risen there. Sandor understood that Catelyn had a deep hatred for him and he could live with that, however, he could not believe she would have the audacity to accuse him of rape. A memory he had shoved down entered his mind unbidden. Years after his face had been pushed into blazing, hot coals by his own brother, he found said brother raping an innocent girl that was younger than their sister had been at the time. She couldn't have been more than seven and his brother was already nineteen. Sandor hadn't hesitated to take his dagger out and slammed it into his brothers back. The roar that escaped him terrified Sandor and to his horror Gregor snapped the girl's neck right then and there. That was the same day that Sandor was unable to save his family from being murdered and he ran far from Clegane manor. He had devoted his life to never be like his brother and to be accused of such a thing made his blood boil.

"Mother, Sandor would never harm Jeyne nor anyone that didn't deserve it!" Sansa shouted staring at her mother with disbelief written all over her face.

"He is an outsider and always will be. We do not know what he is capable of!"

"He is not an outsider! He has been loyal to all of us since he arrived! He does everything Robb asks of him and when Bran or Jon need help he is the first one they go to. He doesn't even hesitate to help them. Arya will never be a lady and he accepts her for who she is, that is why he was willing to train her to be a fighter when she begged him to do so. Rickon is a cruel little boy that commanded him to do horrible things and yes, he may have done it once but he realized Rickon's character and refused to hurt innocents that Rickon wanted to be harmed. He has always been kind to me even when I have been so very rude to him. He is the best man I have met beside father and I will be damned if you accuse him of such a horrid act against my friend! He is not a dog or a hound. He is a _man_ that deserves to be treated with the utmost respect after all he has done for our family!"

Sansa was panting by the time she ended her speech and Sandor was prepared to drop to his knees and beg for her hand in marriage. No one had stood up for him in that way before and he felt his throat grow tight with emotion. He swore he was about to cry and had to fight tooth and nail not to do so.

Ned stared at Sansa with a look of awe and Catelyn looked completely stunned, her mouth dropped open in shock.

"Sansa, if I wasn't mistaken, I would say you are in love with him," Ned stated looking between them and the room went deathly quiet…

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the cliffhanger!! Trust me, I won't keep you all waiting too long <333
> 
> XOXO


	3. Born In Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your dedication to reading this story! 
> 
> Your comments breathe life into me!!
> 
> Much love <3

_**One day you'll walk the world and keep in mind** _   
_**The heart you've been given in wintertime** _   
_**And through the bitter cold, with opened eyes** _   
_**You'll find the strength to fight and stand upright** _

_**∞** _

_"Sansa, if I wasn't mistaken, I would say you are in love with him."_

Sansa froze, feeling rooted to the spot where she stood. As the words her father just spoke began to sink in she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Her heart galloped wildly inside her chest, a bead of sweat trickled down her spine and she had to force herself not to arch away from it. She swallowed hard and darted a glance at where Sandor stood beside her, his face had gone ashen and his grey eyes remained fixed to the ground. Her gaze returned to her father who flicked his steely eyes from her to Sandor and back to her. The words she wanted to say were getting caught in her throat making her look like a fish out of water when she opened her mouth, closed it, and reopened it all for nothing to come out.

"Tell me it isn't true," Catelyn demanded, her hands were clenching the armrests where she sat.

Sansa squeezed her eyes tight unable to stomach the look of pure disgust on her mother's face. When Sansa was a little girl she detested everything about Sandor. She couldn't stand his stormy gaze or his scarred flesh that made her cringe every time she looked upon his face. She had despised the way her father treated Sandor like a son and understood the jealousy Robb felt towards him. Then, he saved her from Theon and the tides began to shift. She still feared him, still could hardly bear to look at the gruesome terror of his skin, but she had begun to feel something for him she hadn't quite been able to figure out at such a tender age.

Fast forward to being fifteen and seeing him in the Godswood. She had never seen a man with such a body and it had sparked a desire in her, desire to know what it felt like to have his lips pressed against hers and her skin. A deep desire to know how easy it would be for him to lift her and press her against his burly chest while he thrust up into her. She found herself unable to find sleep for many nights, thinking about if his lips would be rough on one side where they were burned and soft on the other, a perfect contrast. Sometimes she would explore herself and flush in shame when she found relief with his body in mind.

As time continued to pass on she continued to stare upon him with equal parts fear and curiosity. She could never gather to courage to say more than a few words to him. More often than not she would wander to the training yard and watch as he sparred with countless men. Sometimes he would fight without his tunic on leaving him in just his breeches. She would become mesmerized by the sweat that glistened on his tan skin and the way his muscles flexed with every swing of his wooden sword. One time he had forced a man to his knees, Sandor's sword in both hands as he pressed down on the other man's sword forcing him to yield. His stomach had gone taut with the exertion of his power. His biceps bulged and rippled with the force he used and the look of raw fury on his face had caused her to run away from the yard. Once safe in her chambers, she had hastily pulled her skirts up and shoved her hand inside her smallclothes and climaxed within minutes to thoughts of him holding her down, whispering horrible, dirty things in her ear.

Sansa had developed irrevocable lust for the man as she began to age but it wasn't just that that drew her to him. She admired his loyalty to her family. She loved the way he talked to Stranger as if the horse understood every word he said. He even became friends with the stable boy and helped him to become accustomed to the ways of Stranger so that he could trust him enough to care for his horse without him being there. Her heart had warmed seeing the boy smile wide as he stroked Stranger's mane. The horse remained stoic and didn't make any moves to harm the child. She had caught Sandor's mouth curling up on the unburned side, small but noticeable. Sansa had even caught Sandor training Arya in secret still to this day, uncaring that he could receive more lashes for his insolence. Arya was surprisingly well versed in the art of sword fighting, able to block Sandor's hard hits. Sansa had stayed till the end and was shocked to see Arya hug, Sandor, thanking him for all his help before she scampered off and she was forced to hide in the shadows. She didn't miss the way Sandor stared after Arya, equally shocked by what had happened. 

Sansa couldn't help but grow a fondness for the intelligent, loyal, and strangely kind man. He may have a bit of a bark and his humor often was lacking, still, she knew it was just a way to build walls around himself to avoid being hurt. Winterfell was definitely not home to the warmest of people, still wary of him. They would whisper about him being an outsider or a dog. Whenever she overheard the cruel gossiping she would use her power as a highborn and demand they never utter such things again or face the gallows. She heard less whispering after that day.

Now a woman of seventeen she still couldn't quite comprehend what she felt for Sandor. She didn't know if she loved him because she had never been in love with anybody before. Sansa couldn't deny the lust she felt for him and if he had ever made any kind of moves on her, she knew she wouldn't have stopped him.

Opening her eyes, her mother's mouth had turned into a deep frown. Tully blue eyes were full of disappointment as if she had been able to read Sansa's thoughts. Her fathers were calculating, trying to decide if what he said were true. Sansa didn't have the confidence to look at Sandor at this moment.

"I care about him," Sansa finally said, a slight tremor to her voice.

Her father smiled softly and turned his attention to Sandor. "Sandor, you have been loyal to my family since you arrived and have done everything in your power to ensure the safety of all my children. I know you would never harm Jeyne because of how much she means to Sansa. I am unsure of how you feel towards my daughter but if she would have you, I will accept you to take her hand in marriage if the time does come where love deepens."

Sansa heard Sandor let out a harsh breath, finally gathering her strength to look over at him. He seemed to be trembling where he stood, his grey eyes found hers, and she noted the way his chest fell and rose rapidly. His eyes were wide as he stared upon her and she knew hers mirrored his own. Sansa had never expected her father to utter such things and it had been a shock to her system. Her belly tightened and she had to place a hand to the spot where a sudden ache had begun to take hold.

"Ned, you are speaking madness," Catelyn hissed, standing to her feet with a bewildered stare.

"You have always had a bitter taste in your mouth for the boy. He has been nothing but good to all our children and has always been respectful to you and I. If they care for one another and the feelings run deeper than friendship, then it is not up to me to oppose love. I want all of my children to be happy and that includes Sandor whether you like it or not. I am your lord husband and you _will_ find peace with this or find yourself with a black heart full of hatred and bitterness and my love for you will _diminish_ with it. I will not stand for this childishness, Catelyn." Catelyn gaped openly at him and sat back down knowing she could not oppose her husband any longer or face something worse than death. Her spine was ramrod straight where she sat and her hands folded neatly in her lap. Sansa watched her face turn into a mask of no emotion as her father continued to speak. "Now, Sandor and Sansa, I have other matters to care for. I must find Vayon and tell him of the state of his daughter. Rest and we shall speak tomorrow. You are dismissed."

Sandor bowed and Sansa curtsied before both of them exited the room. The doors slammed shut behind them with finality. Sandor said nothing, he stared down the hall which led to his room and then towards the one that would take him out of the castle. Without hesitation, he began to march towards the door that would lead him far from where he currently was and Sansa followed quickly after him.

"Sandor, wait, we should discuss-"

He spun around, a growl escaping him. "Discuss what, little bird? That your father was willing to hand you over to me without any quarrel? Thank you for defending me but I know you can never grow to love me. These scars," he waved a large hand at his face, "will never go away so spare me your bloody courtesies. I know you can hardly _bear_ to look at me." His voice was bitter but his eyes showed a deep sadness that tugged at her heartstrings.

Her skin sizzled as she continued to stare up at him, drinking in how handsome he truly was. His eyes were beautiful, a perfect storm that she wanted to soothe. She wanted to smooth out the tension of his clenched jaw with her fingertips and drag them down the scarred skin of his neck where it led to his broad shoulders that heaved up and down with his quickened breathing. His tunic was unlaced revealing the sinews of his massive chest, black hair revealed to her adamant gaze. Her eyes drifted back up seeing the tendons standing out on his neck, a visible pulse on the unscarred side. She had to crane her neck back to look upon his face once more and what she saw there made her suck in a sharp breath. She had come to know what desire looked like and he seemed close to devouring her whole. His grey eyes had darkened and his mouth parted slightly as he stared down upon her. She longed to touch him, to feel every inch of him, and something snapped inside of her. She pressed up on the tips of her toes and cupped his jaw. Her lips found his, a soft pressure that startled him by the way he grasped her wrists tearing her away from him.

"What in the seven hells are you doing?" He demanded, low and guttural. He was trembling and she was not entirely sure out of fear or desire.

Her mouth had gone dry and her body felt feverish. His lips had been both soft and rough just like she had imagined them to be. It made her desperate to feel them against hers once again. Her skin was practically throbbing, pulsating with the need to have him for her own.

" _Please_ , Sandor," she murmured and he breathed out raggedly like he had just been punched in the gut.

"You don't know what you are doing, little bird. It isn't kind to tease a man."

"I'm not teasing you," Sansa spat angrily, trying to pull herself out his relentless grasp. It proved to be futile, his strength was unmatched, and she had no chance against him.

She is taken off guard when he yanked her towards one of the halls no one went down and backed her against the wall. His hands slammed beside either side of her head and he lowered so their faces were too close for comfort. She could feel his breath ghosting over her lips as he stared her straight in the eyes. Her skin sizzled and her breath skipped as they continued to stare at one another, neither one speaking. Suddenly, his hand moved, calloused fingertips slid over the exposed skin of her collarbone to where her pulse beat like mad. She bit hard on her bottom lip when his hand cupped the nape of her neck pulling her mouth closer to his own. She can feel the tremors of his hand against her skin, his breaths shaky and eyes full of fear.

"Sansa," he whispered, tracing his thumb back and forth along the skin of her jaw. "Don't do this to me. Don't make me think you actually want me."

Sansa knew she had to make him understand how much she did want him by showing him. With trembling hands, she pushed them underneath his tunic feeling his stomach tighten under her touch. He let out a strangled groan, pressing his forehead hard against hers, their breaths mingling as they both panted. She explored the strong muscles of his stomach, feeling the fur that coated them, her body growing hot at the way his stomach rose and fell beneath her ministrations. She drifted them up smoothing them over his hair-ridden chest. She felt the scars that marred his tan skin and knew he received them due to countless drunken fights and sparring in the training yard. He had the body of a warrior she noted as she ran her hands down his sides, stopping when she met the fabric of his breeches.

It is at that moment that they both hear the slamming of doors, the celebration meeting its end. Sandor tore away from her as if she had burned him, his eyes were wild as he stared down at her, and then with a shake of his head he stormed off much too fast for Sansa to chase after him.

Sansa exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She stared after him and wished he would have given her a chance to tell him how much she cared for him before he ran off like a spooked horse. Sansa wasn't ashamed of the feelings she felt for him, not anymore, not when her dear father was willing to allow her and Sandor marry if they so wished it. She found that she truly wanted to marry Sandor. However, Sansa wouldn't push the matter at hand. When Sandor was ready to go further than what was hardly a friendship, she too would be ready to take that step.

∞

Sandor was being too hard on the boy. Big blue eyes stared up at Sandor terrified and hardly able to dodge the wooden sword raining blow after blow down upon him. The boy cried out when Sandor landed a vicious hit to his exposed side and fell to his knees yelling yield over and over again. Sandor growled and threw his own wooden sword to the ground, stalking off the training grounds to find himself a much-needed flagon of wine.

A sudden hand grabbed at his bicep and he had half a mind to toss whoever dared to touch him. Instead, he gripped the wrist of the person and yanked them like a rag doll in front of him. Jon looked up at him bewildered and affronted by Sandor's harsh actions towards him. Sandor let go of him immediately and Jon shook out his arm with a grimace.

"What in the seven hells is wrong with you today, Sandor? That boy is merely twelve and you probably cracked his entire ribcage!"

"He will learn from the pain and grow stronger," Sandor snapped, trying to calm his thundering heart and soothe the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The events of last night had him in a whirl, most men hadn't even come to the training yard due to being unable to get out of their featherbeds after excessive drinking. So, the fact that this boy had and didn't hesitate to spar with Sandor should have been something he was grateful for but in return, he decided to use the child to get his anger out.

Jon's lips pressed together in a thin line, and his eyes narrowed. "That boy did not deserve your anger, Sandor. Whatever it may be that has gotten you in this state of mind, you need to take care of it. If you are going to behave such as you did then stay far from the bloody training grounds," Jon lectured with a disapproving gaze and marched back over to where the boy groaned in pain. Sandor flushed in shame at what he had done to the boy and couldn't bear to stick around any longer.

Sandor stormed into the kitchen where the cook, Gage, was making lemon-cakes and some pies that no doubt were meat-filled. The stocky man raised a brow at him but made no moves to speak. The kitchen wenches helping him prepare meals eyed Sandor curiously, a small spark of interest in their eyes. He had heard the things they whispered behind his back. They talked of things like wanting to be taken like a bitch in heat by the infamous hound. He knew they would never want to look upon his face during the act, reason why he avoided them like the plague. No doubt they carried things no man could be rid of, another thing that made Sandor wary of them.

"Did ya need something, boy?" Gage said gruffly, sprinkling what looked like snow over the lemon cakes.

"Wine," Sandor grunted not fond of the man calling him a boy.

Gage waved behind him and Sandor stalked over past the wenches that smiled seductively at him. The smell of Dornish red caught his attention and he immediately grabbed the flagon it was in. He growled at the ladies meant to block his way.

"Leave the boy be. If ya had red hair maybe he would give ya ladies a try," Gage chuckled to himself.

Sandor snapped his attention to the old man at that comment. "What did you say?"

Gage rolled his eyes placing the freshly made lemon cakes on a platter. "I have work to do, boy. You have your wine, now leave."

Sandor clenched his fist tighter around the handle of the wine and left before he crushed the man's skull against the wall. He heard the man and his wenches laughing as he left. Sandor bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to ignore the rage welling inside of himself. The old man had spoken out of turn. No one knew of his desire for Sansa…or so he had thought. Jon had seen the way he stared at her, who is to say that others hadn't noticed as well. _You're a bloody fool._

Sandor resigned to his room, located in the tower of Winterfell, it was a small space but it suited him just fine. He had a featherbed pushed into one corner of the room and a wooden desk filled with papers full of stories that he had conjured up, stories of how the beast fell in love with a fair maiden and how she learned to love him regardless of how he looked. Stories that he knew would never ring true, not now, not ever.

He took a hearty drink from the flagon, savoring the sour taste on his tongue, praying it would help him forget but finding the more he drank the more it made him think of her. He ripped his tunic up and over his head, tossing it on the chest that held his clothing and laid back on his featherbed staring at the unmoving ceiling. Sandor brought the wine to his lips and gulped down as much as he could before the need to breathe reared its ugly head. He placed the flagon on the ground, rubbing both hands over his face, and swallowed hard at the emotions pressing down on his chest.

He smoothed a hand over his jaw, remembering the way Sansa had cupped his face to drag his mouth to her own. His fingertips ghosted over his lips, the warmth of hers against his had stunned him for a second before his brain grasped what was happening. He tore her away from him unable to believe she had done such a thing. Sandor had never been kissed before and he thought when he did it would be due to having to beg for one or pay for it. He would never have thought a high born lady as beautiful as Sansa would willingly give him a kiss.

Sandor closed his eyes, practically hearing her shaky breaths when he had settled his forehead against hers. His hand trailed over his chest where she had pressed her clammy palms to it, smoothing it down his stomach feeling the rise and fall of his labored breaths. He realized he was panting by the time he reached the top of his breeches. With shaking hands, he tore at the strings of his breeches. When the material loosened he shoved a hand inside and groaned in relief as he wrapped it around his aching cock. He began to stroke himself up and down, gently squeezing the base when it became too intense for him to take. His thumb and forefinger hit the tip clumsily and he bit back a loud cry at how good it felt. He did everything in his power not to think of her, trying to replace her image with one completely unlike her. He grasped onto thoughts of midnight hair and black eyes only for it to flicker back to red hair and blue orbs instead.

Sandor shuddered violently when he thought of her lips against his. He didn't want to imagine her whilst doing such a filthy thing. He didn't have the right to think of what she would look like beneath him, and yet, he couldn't stop himself from imagining how it would feel to hold her down and fuck into her. Flashes of pale skin and pretty pink lips occupied his mind and he was helpless to its whims.

Her lips had been so soft and he wanted to feel them upon his once again. He wanted to sink his fingers into her hair and press his lips to her beating pulse to see how she would react to such a touch. She always smelled so bloody good and it made him want to taste her to find out how sweet she would be. He wanted to hear her moan because of what he was doing to her. His hand began to speed up as his breathing turned shallow.

He wanted the little bird so badly it was driving him to madness. Remembering her hands running along his skin is what does him in. He bit down so hard on his bottom lip that he drew blood and then saw flashing light behind his eyes as his release hit him hard and fast. Warm spurts landed on his stomach and he slowed the rhythm of his hand. His racing heart began to slow and he moved to clean himself off.

Sandor threw the rag he used down angrily and sat at the edge of his bed shoving his fingers into his hair and gave it a hard tug. He was disgusted with himself for touching himself while thinking of her. He needed to get it through his thick skull that even with Ned's approval it didn't mean Sansa would ever want to marry him. She was the most beautiful woman he had laid his eyes on and she deserved better. Finishing off his wine, Sandor fell into a restless sleep, the little bird haunting his every dream.

∞

"Mother has been quiet lately," Arya said taking a large bite of her roll, not caring to talk with her mouth full.

Sansa didn't have the heart to scold her sister for her lack of manners. It would be pointless to waste her breath on such matters. Arya would never be a proper lady and anyone who dared to say otherwise was a fool. A new blacksmith had found his way to Winterfell. Due to his much-needed trade, he was another outsider not cast aside. Sansa had seen the way Arya had taken a liking to him. Sansa had walked by the forge many times to catch Arya talking the man's ear off. Each time she saw their exchange, he would always be smiling and nodding along to whatever she may have been saying. His eyes rarely strayed from his work but she could tell he was still being attentive towards Arya. Sansa wondered if Arya liked him more than just a friend but she would always laugh at the notion. Arya would never be the type to marry. Sansa believed if love did sprout between Arya and the blacksmith, they would run away from Winterfell and live as outlaws.

"Hello? Are you listening?" Arya asked waving a hand in front of Sansa's face shaking her from her reverie.

"My apologies. What did you say, dear sister?"

Arya rolled her eyes and finished off her bread roll. "I said mother has been quiet ever since Robb's wedding. It has been weeks and she has hardly spoken a word to me. You know mother always has something to say about me needing to be a proper lady."

It is true that their mother had been acting strange lately. Sansa figured it to be due to father allowing Sandor to take her hand in marriage. She knew how much her mother despised the burly man and if it were up to her mother she would have already had his head on a pike. Sansa shivered at the thought of that ever happening to him. He was the very image of the Warrior and she would never believe he could be easily beaten unless his loyalty was to get in the way.

Sandor had gone back to being his normal self. He continued to train in the training yards, drink his favorite Dornish red, and escaped to the hot springs as much as he could. However, she noted him spending more time with Jon who had seemed to grow to befriend him. She couldn't stop spying on him no matter how hard she tried not to. Sansa cared deeply for him and as time passed on, her feelings for him continued to blossom. She wanted him to look her way or confess his undying love for her but she knew that would never happen. Sandor was a stubborn man and she knew he didn't believe she could ever love him. Yet, she had realized that she did love him. She probably had for a while without realizing it. Sandor was a good man and she would be proud to have him as her lord husband.

"Have you all gone mad?" Arya snapped due to Sansa getting lost in their thoughts once again.

"Mother is upset and I think she needs time to work through her feelings."

"Why would mother be upset?" Arya's brows had drawn in at the middle in confusion, her mouth turned into a frown.

Sansa knew it would be best, to be honest. Arya had never lied to her and she wouldn't be the one to break their bond. "Ned has allowed for Sandor to take my hand in marriage."

Arya sputtered, looking at Sansa in disbelief. "What? Why would he ever do such a thing?"

"I care for him, Arya," Sansa said softly smoothing out her dress to stop the trembling of her hands.

"You have feelings for him?" Arya asked incredulously, unable to seem to process what Sansa was trying to tell her.

Sansa nibbled at her lip and simply nodded. Arya's eyes practically reached her hairline now. "I don't understand how anyone could be fond of the hound."

"Do not call him that," Sansa hissed. "He has a good, strong name and I would not have my own sister disrespect the man I love."

Arya's expression softened into one Sansa had never seen before. "You are right. Sandor is a nice name. He has always been good to me and has taken lashings he did not deserve all because of me. I'm sorry. I should not have called him such a name."

Sansa couldn't believe her sister was actually apologizing but had the good sense not to say anything about it. It had to have been difficult to say in the first place and Sansa would not tarnish that. "Thank you for apologizing. I'm sorry for lashing out as I did."

Arya shook her head fervently. "I was in the wrong and if you love Sandor then I think you should accept his proposal."

Sansa blushed and fumbled with a lock of her hair. "He hasn't actually proposed. Sandor doesn't believe I could ever want him."

"The man is a bloody fool. You must get him to see reason," Arya grumbled and wiped off her mouth in haste. "I have somewhere to be, so, you should go seek him out."

Sansa hid a smile behind her hand knowing exactly where Arya was running off to. "Thank you, dear sister."

Arya rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time today and ran off leaving Sansa with her racing thoughts. She had to gather to courage to tell him the truth of her feelings. She could only hope that he would believe her instead of running away as he did all that time ago. Soothing her thudding heart, she stood up and smoothed out the skirt of her dress. It was a long-sleeved blue number which she wore a grey bodice over. She didn't know why she hoped when he saw her that he would think her pretty. Sandor hardly seemed the type to say such things. Shaking her head of such thoughts she went to find Jon hoping Sandor would be with him or have an inclination of where Sandor would be.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxoxo


	4. Time Stops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I must apologize for the delay in my writing. I have been swamped at work and learning a lot of new things there that has caused my brain to turn into mush. I also work at 4 am every morning so I accidentally fall asleep every damn day I get home and lose all my mojo to write. Anyways, I have decided to post this short and cute chapter to help lead us into the final chapter that will finish off the story the way I intended. I really do appreciate all the words of encouragement and how sweet all of you are.
> 
> I just want to say that Sansa and Sandor shippers are the nicest people I have encountered so far. Like when I posted a shitty chapter that was pretty rushed on my other story, there were no rude comments, just comments that gave constructive criticism. That was a first in my experience of being a fanfiction writer. Normally, people go for the throat and I can't express how relieved I felt that I was able to just take a step back, rewrite the chapter, and continue to have the support of such awesome people. I seriously love writing these characters because of all of you and how kind you all are. I know our fandom gets a lot of hate on the outside but on the inside, it is full of people that I honestly admire so very much. 
> 
> Once again, thank you to all of you because I wouldn't be here without you all. You are amazing human beings and I hope that whatever you do in this life that it is full of success, happiness, and so much more <3
> 
> Thank you!!

**_I long just to hold you_ **   
**_Live within your space_ **   
**_Out of body when I dream_ **   
**_I see your face_ **

**_∞_ **

Sandor loved the library tower of Winterfell, he could get lost in here for hours. It was the one place beside the Godswood that he could find peace. This place had been his sanctuary for many moons, a place where he had learned everything he needed to so the people of Winterfell wouldn't think him daft. Sandor doubted they thought otherwise but he had seen the faces of many fall when he told them about the history of Winterfell and used words far too complicated for their minds to comprehend. Those moments are the ones he stored for whenever he needed a good laugh.

To ensure that he wouldn't be bothered in the library, Sandor had learned exactly the comings and goings of everyone who ventured inside the walls of the tower. Today was just like any other. He had his flagon of Dornish red and was sat against a bookcase full of love stories, his long legs spread out in front of him touching the other bookcase across from him filled with poems. Sandor was highly invested in the book he was reading. It was one he had read countless times and seemed to never get enough of. The lovers had met in secret and now were passionately kissing whilst the man touched his woman in places Sandor could only wish to touch someday.

"I have to say I was highly surprised when Jon told me this is where I could find you."

Sandor startled at the familiar voice, slamming the book in his hands shut. He stumbled to his feet and held it behind his back. His entire body broke out into heat as if he had just been caught with his cock in hand. His face felt much too hot and he could hardly look Sansa in the eyes. A small smile graced her face as she stepped closer to him. He squared his shoulders, pressing them back against the bookcase in an attempt to move away from her.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped, his words coming out far more terrified than harsh.

"I needed to talk to you," she said, threading her hands together behind her back causing his gaze to be drawn to the slender curve of her neck and down to the tops of her breasts. She was so pale, like the snow that fell too bloody much here in his home of Winterfell. The dress she wore was new and no doubt made by her hand. It hugged her womanly body all too well, his hands clamped down tight on the book he held to stop him from tearing the material off of her and having his way with her right on this bloody floor.

Sandor needed her to go away and he knew the only way to do that was to let her say what she needed. "Talk," he grunted and folded his arms across his chest no longer caring to hide the book he had been reading.

She was so pretty with the way her cheeks turned red and she combed a fallen strand behind her ear. She peered up at him from beneath her lashes and he swallowed hard at the way she looked at him. He didn't know if it was meant to tease or make him forgo all that he thought he knew and cover her lips with his own.

"Sandor, do you find me beautiful?"

The words made him want to laugh but instead, nothing came out. It felt like someone had a firm grasp on his throat and he found himself swallowing once more. His eyes flitted between her own, realizing she intended for him to answer her. Sansa had to know how beautiful she was. All the men talked about courting her and some other unsavory things that he shut down with a little bit of violence. Sandor had never told anyone they were beautiful, perhaps he may have said it to his sister once but he couldn't be sure. He saw rejection start to cloud Sansa's once hopeful expression and knew he had waited too long to answer.

"Yes," he whispered, the single word sounding strained as it left his mouth.

"Yes?" Sansa repeated.

"Yes, I find you beautiful. Everyone bloody does. I do not understand why you need me to tell you something you already know." He didn't mean to sound so defensive but the words came out sounding as such and Sansa visibly winced at his harsh demeanor.

"I don't care what _everyone_ else thinks. I want to know if _you_ and only _you_ find me beautiful," she huffed out with a shake of her head. He could see the welling of tears in the corner of her eyes and could hardly understand why she would cry over a dog such as himself.

Sandor placed the book back on the shelf and reached for her. He grasped her jaw in his hand- feeling her go rigid at the touch and lifted her head to look him in the eyes again. Her blue orbs were wide and searching as he stared down at her. "Why would you care what I think? I'm just an ugly, scarred bastard with nothing to offer but my sword. I think your father has mistakenly made you believe that by being allowed to marry me means that you must follow through with that. I know you don't want to marry me. I know the last thing you want to see while having your precious maidenhead plucked is my face above you." His words were cold and he hoped that she would finally stop this mad game of teasing him.

Sandor was shocked by the rage that appeared on her face and the way her bottom lip wobbled. His heart ceased to beat when she burst into tears and started to pound her fists on his chest. He let go of her immediately, the shelf of the bookcase digging hard into his back.

"I love you!" She bellowed. "You fool! How can you not see how much I want you?! _I love you, Sandor!_ I _want_ to be your lady wife!"

Sandor sucked in a sharp breath at hearing her confession. He grasped onto her wrists to stop her flurry of punches and she sagged into his hold. Her body wracked with sobs and the sounds of anguish that escaped her tore at his soul. As long as he has known Sansa he had never thought she would ever grow to feel such a way towards him. He had always thought she feared him or was disgusted by him. He had felt the shift in their relationship after he saved her from Theon but he had never read into it as anything more than what it was. He had caught her and her friend spying on him once. He had seen something new in her eyes towards him that night but he would have never dared to think too hard upon it. Sandor noted she hardly looked at other boys or men for that matter, she always seemed to be watching him too closely, and it had made him want her even more because of it. Still, he didn't understand how she could love him.

"Little bird, how could you love me? I have been nothing but unkind to you."

She clenched her fists and calmed her cries when she looked upon him again it was with a newfound strength. "How could I not love you, Sandor? You think you have been unkind to me but you have been nothing but loyal and good to all of us Stark's. You protected me from Theon when he meant to harm me and you did it with no hesitation. You could have told my father and mother of how I spied on you, how I invaded your privacy, and you did no such thing. You saved me from further embarrassment by keeping quiet. You have been good to my beloved sister and have accepted her for who she is when no one would. She means everything to me and you helped her even though it could mean more lashings.

"You killed the man who attacked my best friend and protected her modesty by seeking out the Maester instead of bursting into the Great Hall. I may have longed for a pretty knight at one point in my life but you, Sandor, have changed everything I ever thought I knew. I cannot love some knight of flowers anymore because I am in love with the loyal, courageous, strong, and intelligent Sandor Clegane.” Sansa fisted her hands on his tunic, his chest fell and rose with rapid breaths, feeling like he was in a dream hearing the most beautiful woman saying such things to him. "You must believe me, Sandor or my heart will break."

"Sansa," he breathed and cupped her jaw in his hands once more lowering his lips to where they were an inch from hers. He had never been good with words or telling anyone how he felt. He hardly even knew how to show her he felt the same but he would bloody well try.

He tentatively brushed his lips against hers, their breaths mingled together as he slightly pulled away only for her to grasp onto his wrists. "It's okay," she murmured leaning into him and he can no longer hold back, eagerly pressing his lips against hers with all the passion he has felt for her for much too long.

He is helpless to her whims, the feel of her lips so soft against his own. For a moment he fears that she doesn't enjoy the scar that covers the left side of his mouth, her soft sigh into his mouth diminishes those doubts. She tastes like the lemon cakes she adores, her tongue invading his mouth tugging a groan from his throat. Her smell floods his senses in waves, a mixture of lavender and a scent that is strictly Sansa. He can feel himself starting to lose control, abandoning her jaw to fist her flame-colored hair, the other finding the small of her back and dragging her ever closer to him. She gasps into his mouth and he swallows it down with a desperation he cannot fight.

The need for air causes him to tug her head back, their lips still an inch apart, both panting into the space between them. His breaths come out more choppy and harsh than hers that are small jabs of air, pink lips slightly parted as her eyes roamed every inch of his face. There is a spark of vulnerability in her eyes that he has never seen before directed at him. She trusts him completely not to hurt her, the walls he had built to keep himself safe start to crumble and he is spellbound by the little bird.

He walks her backward until her back meets the bookcase and his massive body crowds her personal space. His fist tightens in her curls, where he expected to see fear replace the excitement in her eyes, it catches him off guard to see her completely transfixed by him. Raving desire danced in her orbs and he was sure his own reflected hers.

"Sandor," she whispered.

"Little bird," he rasped in return.

"Kiss me."

Twisting her hair in his grasp, he reunites their lips in a hungry, all-consuming kiss. He sucked hard on her bottom lip, soothing the ache with a flick of his tongue before slipping it back inside to taste everything she is willing to offer him. Her small body melted into him, soft, warm hands slipped under his tunic making his stomach tighten and his breaths to come out ragged and needy. Sandor could not get enough of the way she ran her hands along his stomach and higher to his chest fingering through the coarse hair that lay there. She gently tugged at the strands and he fell deeper under her spell, never wanting to break away from her kiss.

∞

Sansa was losing her mind. He tasted so good and his smell was making her weak in the knees, a hint of leather, wood, and his natural musk that made her desperate to be closer to him. The temptation to strip down to nothing but her shift and climb him like a tree began to consume her every thought with every swipe of his tongue and tug on her hair. His stomach rises and falls in rapid succession underneath her fingertips, his skin a blazing inferno that she wants to drown herself in. She trailed her hands up his back feeling the sharp ridges and scars that mar it. She dug her nails into his skin and dragged him closer, wanting his massive weight to bear down on her. He growled when she did so, nipping at her throat, pressing kisses down the slope of her neck till he reached the tops of her breasts.

Warmth spread throughout her entire body as he licked a strip from her sternum to the hollow of her throat before sucking hard on her pulse point. "Gods, little bird," he whispered against her skin. "I feel like I'm dreaming."

"You're not," she whispered back.

"The things I want to do to you right now are not things I should do to a lady," he said almost dejectedly. He pulled completely away from her leaving her a panting mess, trying her best to regain her composure as she smoothed her hands over her ruffled skirts.

Sandor gazed down at her, an unreadable expression replacing the one of passion that he wore only moments ago. Sansa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, giving him a shy, timid smile that she hoped would ease whatever racing thoughts were going on in his head. She longed to know what he wanted to do to her but she knew whatever it could be would be crude. Sandor never cared much to filter his words. His blunt and brazen personality had used to grind on her nerves, now she found it to be one of the many things that drew her to him in the first place. No one was like him, he was not afraid to stand apart from the crowd and she admired that trait, it was one she had always wanted to possess. However, being a highborn lady did not allow much room in being anything but prim and proper.

"You can tell me these things you want to do to me," she stammered, shifting from side to side, "If I am your wife."

Sandor blanched at what she said. "You honestly still want to be married to me?"

She rolled her eyes, desperately wanting him to stop thinking it such a crazy idea that she loved him and found him attractive. "Yes," she simply said, fixing her hair to ensure it didn't look a fright when she left. Sandor remained stone cold silent and Sansa concluded it to him not wanting to marry her. With a sigh of defeat, she made to leave until suddenly he grabbed at her wrist, stopping her. She looked up into his stormy eyes and saw the affection for her that resided there.

"Meet me in the Godswood tonight."

With a small smile, she nodded and he let go of her allowing her to leave. Once she was back in her chambers she plopped down on her bed, releasing a giddy laugh. Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she closed her eyes and savored the memory of his against her own.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO
> 
> Spotify playlist dedicated to Sandor and Sansa:
> 
> Suggestions welcome <3
> 
> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7vPAudNBfufcCoI4Y8JN5G?si=gqHhDhacTP22888T2QDaJg)


	5. Alive In New Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I decided to split these last two chapters in half!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

**_There's a power much bigger than hate_**  
**_Still lost in the urge to annihilate_**  
**_But I know I will overcome this_**  
**_You dragged me through the darkest days_**  
**_By the skin of my teeth you restored my fate_**  
**_And I raised myself out of the ashes_**

**_Now I'm alive in new light._ **

**_∞_ **

Sandor knew what he had to do after he shared such an intimate moment with Sansa and finally had concluded that she wanted to marry him, scars and all. He still couldn't fully comprehend why a beautiful highborn lady such as herself would want to be with him for the rest of her life. Yes, he had been loyal and good to her family for all these years but he still didn't truly believe that warranted him being able to take the hand of Sansa in marriage. Sandor found his heart tightening at the thought of Sansa being with another man. Perhaps he would never be good enough for her in the eyes of many, yet, he would do everything in his power to make her happy and shower her with love for as long as they both shall live.

Sandor had already spoken to Ned once again, ensuring that he would still be able to marry Sansa. Ned was delighted to hear that he was going to propose and much to Sandor's surprise dragged him into a hug that he hardly knew how to reciprocate. He remained stock-still and gave Ned a shy smile when they pulled away. He thanked the man that had given him a life here in Winterfell and so much more than just that-a family he could call his own.

Sandor knew that it didn't stop at just Ned, so, he asked all her brother's to which Robb simply nodded and wished him the best. Bran and Rickon both giggled and gave their consent with a nod. Jon laughed heartily, the sound resonating in the dining hall. Much like Ned, Sandor was pulled into Jon's arms and yet it wasn't as strange as it had been with Ned. Sandor considered Jon a brother and friend, the awkwardness he thought he would feel never came. Jon gave his consent as well and wished him all the happiness in the world. Arya merely shrugged and told him to be good to Sansa or else she'd have his cock on a plate to feed to her direwolf. The little girl never failed to make him utterly fearful of her, knowing her threat wasn't idle.

Now, he stood at the door of Catelyn's chambers, smoothing his hair back and tugging at his tunic to make it more presentable. Sweat beaded at his temple and he quickly wiped it away, unable to stop the tremble in his hands nor the sweat that trickled down his spine. Sandor took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment, before releasing it on a ragged exhale. His heart remained to beat rapidly in his chest as he raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles. He heard movement inside and waited with bated breath as the door opened revealing Catelyn. The once soft expression that sat on her face turned hard, her icy blues wandered over his face, wary to why he was here.

"I'm sorry to intrude my lady but I'm here to request a moment of your time if you will allow it." Sandor stammered the sentence and wanted to crawl into a hole and die due to embarrassment. However, he remained in front of her, making no moves to run away like he wanted to. He had to do this, not just for himself, but for Sansa as well. Sandor had received the approval of all the other Starks and he wasn't about to cower away now.

Catelyn stared at him for a long moment, the uncomfortable silence causing Sandor to shift from foot to foot while he waited patiently for her to allow him to talk or for her to send him on his way. Finally, she nodded her head and opened the door wider to allow him to walk past her. Once inside her chambers, he noted the couple of handmaidens that were fixing up her bed, as he assumed, Catelyn did not send them away. He found no offense in her not wanting to be alone with him and allowed her to settle into her chair, neatly folding her hands on her lap before he began to speak.

Clearing his throat, he rubbed his sweaty palms off on his breeches and found the courage to say what was needed. "My lady, I know that you see me as nothing more than an outsider that won the favor of your lord husband when perhaps I should not have. However, I have been nothing but loyal to you and your family. I have done everything for your children to ensure their happiness and safety. The one you cast aside because he is not your blood has become a brother to me, a man that looks at me like I am more than what these scars make me.

You see these scars and think me a man capable of harming innocents. I am not what these scars have made me out to be. They do not define my heart or my soul. I am here today to ask for your favor in marrying your eldest daughter, Sansa Stark of Winterfell," he hesitated, his heart feeling like it had been caught in a vice grip. Catelyn's eyes bore into him waiting for him to continue, "I love her. I'm _in_ love with her and before I ask her to be my bride I would deem it necessary to be in your good graces when I do so. My lady, please do me the honor of allowing me to marry the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, your daughter, Sansa Stark."

The room went eerily quiet, the handmaidens completely stopping the tasks they were working on. He could feel multiple pairs of eyes on him, holding his breath, anticipating when Catelyn would stop staring at him like he grew a second head, and say something. Suddenly, she stood to her feet, the chair she sat in scraping against the wood floor as she did so. He could see the tremble of her hands, her icy blues narrowing at him.

"Sansa Stark is my second born child. She has been a good girl all her life. Ever since she was a child she has been molded by me and her Septa to act as a highborn should. Sansa has upheld everything the Stark women stand for. She has embodied the role of a lady, knowing how to cook, sew, do chores, and so forth. All I've ever wanted for Sansa was to find a highborn man and be set for the rest of her life without worry. You are a brute of a man and have nothing to offer Sansa. All you know is violence and drinking. You will never be worthy of her. I will _never_ give you my permission to marry her."

The words were said with an air of finality. She nodded to her handmaidens and they got the subtle hint to carry on with their duties. The things she had said were a sword to his heart, he could feel it constricting inside his chest, and the anger that flowed through his body caused him to shake like a dog left out in the cold. She turned her back on him, moving towards her vanity, and the words that were caught in his throat burst out in a roar. She turned around, eyes wide, unprepared for his sudden outburst.

"You know _nothing_ about me. You don't know the tribulations I went through before I stepped foot in Winterfell. You see these fucking scars, _my lady_ ," he growled stalking closer to her causing her to take a wary step back, "My brother wasn't very fond of me playing with his toys, so he grabbed me by my neck and slammed my face into the burning coals of our fireplace. You know I thought the pain was bad enough but the smell was a thousand times worse. I healed in time but then I had to witness my brother murder my sweet baby sister and my dear mother in a violent rage. I wasn't sad to see the old man go but in the end, I couldn't save what was most important to me and that is how I wound up in Winterfell, starving, dehydrated, and on the brink of death until your lord husband gave me a second chance at life.

"I wanted to show him that I wasn't a waste of space. I proved to all of you that I am loyal and as obedient as a dog. I may be a brute, violent, and perhaps I drink too much but I would never harm an innocent. Just like you, I don't understand how a woman as beautiful as your daughter has come to love an ugly, scarred, bastard such as myself. Still, Sansa looks at me and doesn't see what is on the surface, she sees me for who I am. I love her and for as long as I live I will do everything in my power to make her happy and keep her safe."

Sandor's shoulder heaved up and down, hands now balled into fists. He just poured his heart out and told the one person he never thought he would tell about his personal life. He is taken off guard when he sees tears begin to spill down Catelyn's cheeks, her bottom lip wobbling, and then she is walking towards him. Suddenly, her thin arms are wrapping around him as much as they can, and she continues to sob into his chest, soaking the front of his tunic with her tears.

"I'm so sorry, Sandor. I have been so cold to not only you but Jon as well. I have held steadfast to my beliefs without seeing all the harm I have been doing to both of you. I have been so very cruel and for what I did to you because you were teaching Arya how to fight, I can never be forgiven for doing such a thing to you. All I have ever wanted was to make my children happy, and yet, I have done the complete opposite and cast their happiness aside for my selfishness," Catelyn said with a deep sorrow coating her voice, pulling away she took his hands and looked up at him with an earnest look in her eyes-one he had never seen before-and continued to speak, "If Sansa will be happy by taking your hand in marriage then, I have no right to stand in the way of that. _Please_ …just take care of her, Sandor."

On that note, she pulls entirely away from him and apologizes to him that she needs a moment to herself. He mutters a quick thank you, bows, and takes his leave unable to quite process what just happened. As he walks back to his chambers he ponders on the complete turn of heart that Catelyn had towards him after he told her of his past. All this time he has seen her as a cold woman that was entirely heartless to people that were not her own. Now, he had seen the vulnerable side of her and wondered if all this time she had been putting up a front to keep everyone at bay.

Sandor decides to forgive the past and allows her heartfelt apology to set in. It is a wave of relief that follows once he allows himself to no longer hold a grudge to the one who never seemed to care about him any shape or form. Going forward he knows what he will do when he sees Sansa in the Godswood.

∞

The night comes fast and Sansa finds herself in the Godswood under the dazzling moonlight. She paces back and forth by the hot springs, nibbling on her lip. Sansa has no idea why Sandor wanted to meet her here or why all her siblings have been acting strange all day. Arya looked like she was the cat that had caught the mouse at lunchtime, her younger brothers giggled to themselves, Robb looked stoic as ever but a secret smile was on his face. Jon kept casting Arya looks and both of them were giggling almost as much as Bran and Rickon. Robb had to scold them all multiple times to relax. Sansa decided to ignore their antics was her best bet and had finished her lunch, excusing herself with an annoyed look at all of them.

Before she was to leave to the Godswood, her mother had caught her on the way out, and brought her into an almost painful hug. There were no words spoken between them and Sansa wondered if somebody had drugged her family because they were all behaving unlike themselves.

Now, stood in the Godswood she couldn't stop her racing thoughts, wondering what Sandor had been up to all day. The sound of hooves hitting the ground drew her attention to see Stranger and Sandor atop him. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of him and when he dismounted from the horse she felt her stomach tighten in anticipation. The black tunic he wore stretched across his broad shoulders, showcasing just how massive he was. Wool breeches hugged his ass in just the right way and wrapped around tree-trunk thighs that made wetness pool between her thighs, causing her to shift uncomfortably.

Sandor whispered something to Stranger and finally turned to gaze at her. She saw him visibly gulp when he took her in. She wore a long-sleeved grey wrap-around dress, with no shift underneath. If she wanted to, all she merely had to do was tug at the string that kept it laced together on the side and it would fall away revealing her body to him. The thought was enough to make her body span with heat. Her cloak was the only thing protecting her modesty and keeping her warm on this chilly night. Sandor never seemed to care about the icy winter nights. Sansa believed it was due to the natural heat that he constantly radiated.

Sandor moved in front of her not hesitating to take her jaw in his sizeable hand. His thumb caressed the line of her cheekbone back and forth, a soft look in his grey orbs. "Sansa, you are so beautiful. I will never tire of looking at you, not even when we are old and grey, even then you will always be the prettiest woman I have ever had the honor of laying my eyes on."

Due to his height, Sansa was forced to crane her head back to meet his gaze. A smile graced her face as she peered up at the man that had stolen her heart, mind, body, and soul. She moved her hand to rest on the back of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You will always be the most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on, Sandor. You are strong and brave and I couldn't imagine my life without you."

Sandor let out a shaky breath, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Sansa, today I talked to all of your family, one by one, to ensure that they would allow me to marry you. I even asked your mother to honor me by allowing me to take your hand in marriage. She was hateful at first but after I revealed my past to her, she gave in and apologized."

Sansa inhaled on a sharp breath, her eyes flitting back and forth between his. To think that Sandor had gone to such great lengths for her made her want to burst into tears and thank him over and over. She was left speechless instead, waiting for him to continue with bated breath. He continued and told her about his torrid past, the tears she had tried to keep from falling were unable to be stopped once he let her know how he earned his burns and what had happened to his family. He had found the strength to tell this to her mother, making her understand that he was not just what appeared on the outside. Once he was finished telling her about his painful past, he took her face in both his large hands and lowered his forehead to hers, sharing the same breath.

"Sansa, I wanted you to know everything about me and now that I have, it would greatly please me if you would allow me to take your hand in marriage. Be my wife. Let me cherish you always and forever. I _love_ you, Sansa, I always have and I always will."

Unable to speak, Sansa used her lips to tell him her answer, pressing them against his own until he groaned and reciprocated the kiss. Warms hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her tight. He parted her lips roughly with his tongue, the sensation causing her to moan helplessly into his mouth. Her hands darted out gripping the front of his tunic, feeling the way his stomach rose and fell rapidly. His kiss became more dominant as their tongues continued to tangle together, his hand slipping into her hair taking a fistful as he tasted everything she had to offer. She had eaten lemon cakes not long before she arrived at the Godswood. Instead of turning him off like she thought it would, it seemed to entice him even more with the way he moaned every time he sucked deliciously on her tongue. The kiss only grew rougher and more passionate, a need to be closer to one another starting to consume their every thought.

Sansa was still overwhelmed by the fact Sandor actually loved her and said it out loud, his roaming hands were driving her insane with lust but the knowledge that he was in love with her was by far the greatest feeling she had ever experienced in her life. They would marry, she would wear his cloak, be with him intimately, and perhaps one day…they would have children…children that would be a mix of both of them.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	6. Wildest Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of this story and I just want to say thank you to everyone that stuck with me on this crazy ride. I appreciated every single one of your comments and truly want to say thank you for all of your support!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter <3
> 
> Much love <3

**_You're the wildest wind_ **   
**_You're the home beneath the ruin_ **   
**_Self-loathing or the darkest drug will never keep me_ **   
**_From loving_ **   
**_You make my heart sing_ **   
**_Every time you brush against me_ **   
**_My wildest wind_ **   
**_Come make me smile again_ **

**_∞_ **

Sandor didn't understand why Sansa wanted to take his name, perhaps he never would. Clegane's Keep had been desolate for many moons now. He had heard word not too long ago that his brother had wound up getting himself murdered. The news did not surprise him. The path that his brother had led was not one that would get you very far in life.

Pushing the thoughts out of his head, he turned back to the mirror in front of him. He had never been fond of seeing himself, the burns always so hideous to his eyes that he had broken several mirrors when he was a young boy. His mother had told him that he was still handsome with the burns but he had never believed her. Yet, the way Sansa looked at him now told him that perhaps he wasn't as ugly as he had previously thought.

His ebony hair was combed away from his face. Jon had helped him trim it a bit so it wasn't reaching past his shoulders anymore. He had shaved, bathed to the point his skin felt like it was about to fall off, and adorned a white tunic with grey breeches. He tucked the tunic in to make himself appear more presentable. Tugging on his boots he moved to where the cloak Sansa had handcrafted for him lay upon his featherbed. The yellow cloak was thick when he took it into his hands, the sigil of three hounds raced down the back of it, and he found the courage to put it on. When he looked into the mirror once again he felt a pang of pride seeing his house colors. His brother may have never made a good lord nor his father but Sandor could have been one that would have treated his people right.

A knock at his door caused him to be torn from his thoughts and he moved to answer it. Ned stood before him in his house colors, a broad smile upon his weathered face. "You look quite handsome, son."

"Thank you, my lord."

Ned waved a hand in front of his face. "You no longer have to call me that. I have something to tell you. May I come in?"

Sandor immediately moved out of the doorway to allow Ned inside. Ned wasted no time in saying what he came to say.

"Sandor, you have been a very loyal man to my family but I think the time has come for you to move on with your life. You will be marrying my daughter and she will take the name Clegane. As you know, I went away on business not too long ago. During that time I made a stop in the Westerlands. I found that Clegane's keep is still flourishing to a point but there is no lord to rule over them. I spoke to many people and when I told them that you were still alive they were surprised but mostly begged for your return. Many of them remembered you as a kind boy that always helped out in the village and wouldn't dare to harm anyone. They need you and that is why it is time for you to return home as Lord Sandor Clegane."

Sandor felt rooted to where he stood, his mouth had gone dry, and he stared at Ned wide-eyed trying to work out what he had just been told.

"I know you're surprised but I have also already spoken to my friend, King Robert Baratheon and he has granted you the lands. They are rightfully yours, Sandor."

"I am no Lord," Sandor whispered with a shake of his head.

Ned placed both his palms on Sandor's shoulders. "You are now. I must retrieve my daughter and it is time for you to go to the Godswood. You will depart in a week to your new home. As much as I shall miss my beloved Sansa, I know that she will be in safe hands for the rest of her days. We shall visit and you will always be welcome in Winterfell. Thank you for everything you have done for not only me but my family as well, Sandor."

"It has been an honor to serve you." With a bow, Sandor swallowed down the emotions robbing him of breath and watched as Ned bowed back, leaving the room.

Sandor never thought his life would turn out this way and it was all thanks to the kindness that Ned Stark of Winterfell had shown him. He would never forget that for as long as he lived.

∞

Sansa clutched her dad's arm, seeing all the people she loved standing across from one another as she was about to walk down the snowy path towards the man she would be with forever. He stood tall and proud next to Maester Luwin. His cloak-the one she had made for him-rested on his shoulders, making him appear larger than life. Sansa had to swallow through the lump that formed in her throat seeing him so stoic and handsome.

Sansa had decided on a baby blue dress with a grey bodice that laced up the back. She had elegantly stitched in fish at the edges of her dress, incorporating her mother's sigil. Her maidens cloak was white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back, a symbol of her father, and what she was to leave behind as she took the name of Clegane.

Once in front of the heart tree, she was able to see the adoration that danced in Sandor's eyes. Exchanging a small smile at one another, they are interrupted by the ringing voice of Maester Luwin.

"Who comes before the god?"

Ned answered in a loving tone. "Sansa of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods."

"Who comes to claim her?"

"Sandor of House Clegane, second of his name, Lord of Clegane's Keep. I am here to claim her," Sandor rasped. Sansa didn't miss the distaste in the way he spoke the last part and she had to stifle a laugh behind her hand.

"Who gives her?"

"Ned of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, her father," he said proudly.

Maester Luwin turned to Sansa. "Lady Sansa, will you take this man?"

"I take this man," Sansa said with no hesitation.

Sandor extended his hand towards her and she gladly accepted it. They both kneeled before the heart tree, bowing their heads in a token of submission, and Sansa prayed that they would have peace and love together for the rest of their days. Once they both rose, Sansa turned away from Sandor allowing him to remove her maidens cloak and a moment later she felt the heavier material of his cloak bear down on her shoulders. Without warning, Sandor lifted her into his arms with ease and everyone erupted into loud hoots and hollers.

"Let's feast!" Someone shouted and it was then that everyone made their way to the great hall no doubt to lose their wits in drink and do other inexplicable things as the night wore on.

With her arm around his shoulders, the other resting on his chest, Sandor carried Sansa the entire way to the great hall placing her back on her feet once they reached the head table where they were immediately overwhelmed with food and wine and endless congratulations. Music rang out throughout the hall and Sansa gingerly sipped on her wine, unable to eat due to the nerves that swarmed in her stomach.

Here in Winterfell, bedding ceremonies weren't custom, so, that helped to ease her somewhat. Still, the thought of finally being with Sandor intimately started to dawn on her. Sandor was not a small man and no doubt whatever was inside his breeches was of equal proportion to the rest of him. She couldn't help but remember that fateful day when Jeyne wondered if such a thing would fit inside a woman. Sansa had been too shy to look but now she wished she had caught a glimpse of it just to understand what she was about to get herself into.

Suddenly, a hand bore down on hers causing her to yelp and jump in her seat. Sandor leaned in, his mouth hot near her ear, warm breath cascaded against her cheek, and she shivered at the way it sent a spark up her middle. "I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do little bird," he murmured in a low voice. "So, stop your fretting."

"I'm not fretting."

Sandor chuckled, a deep sound that had her shifting in her seat, trying to assuage the way wetness had leaked from her core. "I can practically see the wheels in your brain turning. I'm just as scared as you are, perhaps for different reasons, but as you have never been with a man, I have never been with a woman."

Sansa snapped her head in his direction so fast she almost smacked into him, his quick reflexes allowed him to dodge her. "You are pure as well?"

"Don't look so surprised. Do you think I would go find some common whore to sate my lust? It's always been you, Sansa. I haven't even looked at another woman since I laid my eyes on you. You're all I've ever wanted. You are the _only_ one that can satisfy me."

Sansa gasped at his open admission and before she could stop herself she was leaning into him, begging with her eyes for him to understand what she wanted and needed.

Sandor grabbed her by her wrist pulling her to her feet and into him. "Let's get out of here," he growled and she nodded quickly. Nobody saw them leave and she doubted anyone cared. Sandor grew impatient and hoisted her over his shoulder, stomping up the stairs until they reached her chambers and were safely inside. He lowered her back to her feet and barred the door, standing there for several moments before he turned to face her. The room was dark except for the dim light the moon cast.

Sansa tucked her hair behind her ears, butterflies swarmed in her stomach, and her legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment. To ease the nerves eating at her, she went to the fireplace and started a fire to cast light inside the room. She stood and before she could turn around she felt Sandor at her back. His fingertips ghosted over the top of her breasts, across her collarbone, along her neck until he cupped underneath her jaw in a gentle grip, his thumb spanning the length of her cheek.

"I love you, little bird. I would never hurt you but if you don't want me inside of you then I will respect your wishes," he said huskily next to her ear.

"Sandor," she whispered, moving her hand to cradle his wrist. "I do want you."

His grip tightened. "Tell me what you want."

Sansa flushed at what he was asking. He wanted to hear her say she wanted him inside of her. She had always known Sandor had a filthy mouth and she had no doubt it would roll over into this aspect as well, still, she was a lady, and ladies weren't supposed to talk in such ways.

"Sandor, I can't."

He let go of her and tenderly removed his cloak from her, tossing it aside without a second thought. He smoothed her hair off to one shoulder, warm lips caressed the side of her neck, and she pressed back further into him with a sigh. "Tell me what you want," he repeated, dragging his teeth up to the sensitive skin behind her ear, giving it a gentle nip that dragged a choked moan out of her.

" _Please_ , I'm a lady. I _can't_ say such things."

Her body and mind were at war with another. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear and yet years of schooling were engraved in her. Highborn ladies could never speak the words of a whore. Sandor turned her around, backing her up until she felt the wall behind her, allowing her no room to escape from the burning look in his eyes. Sandor appeared as a wild animal would, eyes full of desire, chest heaving, lips parted, hair like a mane around his face. It made her want him all the more because of it. However, the words still refused to escape from her mouth.

Sandor placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in. "You told me when you became my wife I could tell you all the things I wanted to do to you. Is that still true?"

Sansa swallowed and nodded. A smirk that reminded Sansa of a wolf tilted the good side of his lips upward. Without warning, Sandor lodged his thigh between her legs and pressed on her core. Even through the layers of her dress, shift, and small clothes she can feel the heat it brings, sending an electric shock throughout her body. His large hand clasped the back of her neck, the other remaining by her head, and he leaned in nipping at her jaw hard enough to make her cry out.

"I want to kiss every single part of your body and taste just how sweet I know you will be," he murmured soothing the sting of his bite with a tender kiss. "I want to lick you between your legs until you are screaming my name, begging for me to be inside of you." He increased the pressure of his thigh, eliciting a gurgling sound from her that embarrassed her to the point she tried to writhe away from him. He only pressed harder against her. "I want to feel you wrapped around my cock. I want to know how it feels to be inside of you and see the faces you make and hear the noises you will make when I'm thrusting into you. _Gods_ , Sansa, I just _want_ everything you are willing to offer me. I'm helplessly in love with you and though what I say is dirty to your pretty little ears, I know it's what you want as well. _So, tell me what you want_."

She grasped onto his face with both hands. "I want y-your c-cock inside of me," she stammered, blushing to the point her entire body was bathed in red.

∞

Sandor couldn't believe she said the words he wanted to hear out loud. His breath began to quicken at the knowledge that she wanted to be with him and that she wouldn't stop him. Without a word, he turned her so she faced the wall, and with trembling fingers, he began to work on the laces of her bodice. Her hands slammed against the wall, breaths coming out hard and fast. He was painfully hard due to seeing her as worked up as he was and he began to viciously tear at the laces needing to rid her of the damned material. She shrugged it off when he was unable to unlace it and then he was presented with the laces of her dress.

Sandor snarled at them, wanting to tear them apart but stopping himself because he knew Sansa had worked tirelessly on this specific dress. He set to the task at hand, his fingers shaking so damn bad that he could hardly do what was needed.

"Just tear it, Sandor, _please_ ," Sansa whimpered, her hands turning into fists against the wall.

"Sansa, you worked-"

" _Please_ ," she insisted.

Sandor groaned at the desperation in her tone and grasped at the tops of her dress where the laces met in the middle, ripping it apart with a savageness that he normally only allowed on the training field. Sansa helped him push the torn dress to the ground and kicked it off to the side once she stepped out of it. Turning her to face him, his lips collide with hers in a frantic kiss that has him burning from the inside out. Her lips move in time with his, it feels like a dream to be with her like this. Her taste floods his senses and if he truly believed in the old gods or the new, he imagined this is what heaven would be like.

She elicits a deep moan out of him when her fingers thread through the strands at the nape of his neck pulling him closer. Her tongue slips past his lips and he opens his mouth wider, eagerly accepting the invasion. Her smell invades his senses, lavender, and lemon, a heavenly combination that has him floating on air. When he takes over the kiss, it becomes harsh and unyielding. His tongue is desperate, licking, sucking, taking what it wants from her own. So lost in a haze of desire he barely registers her hands tearing his tunic out of his breeches, her hands on his stomach jolts him and a low rumble escapes from his chest.

Sansa's hands are so soft as they explore places they have already been. He can't help but want her to slide them lower and touch him where she has never dared to go thus far. Being driven mad by her tentative touches, he pulls away from her, grasping the back of his tunic, and tears it up and over his head. The material finds itself with the other discarded clothes. He growls in approval at the way her eyes widen seeing all of his skin up close. He can feel himself practically preening under her wandering eyes and forces his cock to relax at the notion it will find itself someplace warm and tight tonight.

Sansa licked her lips; trembling fingers ran along the thick veins that spidered along his hand and arm up to his brawny biceps where she gave them a light squeeze. She continued her exploration, ghosting over his collarbones, down to his hair-ridden chest, and lower over the thin strip of hair that raced into the one place he was desperate for her to touch. "Sansa," he muttered and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her big blue eyes peaked up at him, a shy smile adorned her face, and he was done for. He bent at the knees and reached under thighs forcing her to grasp at his shoulders to maintain her balance. He dragged her up into his arms and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. With sure steps, he walked over to her featherbed, placing one knee on it and then the other, lowering her onto her back until he was hovering over. Her pink lips parted, wisps of air escaped her. Her shift had slid up past her thighs revealing creamy pale skin that only sufficed to make him that much harder.

"You are perfect," Sandor groaned pressing his forehead to her chest and feeling her sharp intake of air as he did so.

Slowly, he parted her thighs allowing for him to position his lower body between them. He pressed close to her until she could no doubt feel him against her thigh. His breath exploded from between his teeth at the sensation and unable to stop himself, he pressed against her core and dragged his cock roughly against her.

" _Sandor_ ," she cried out, her fingers fisting his hair and tugging at the strands.

He reveled in the way she said his name, sinking his finger into her hips he grinds against her once again, a strangled sound comes from the back of his throat and she lets out a quiet whimper. He rolls his hips, causing both their breaths to hitch with every thrust against her. He abandons her hips to yank at the ties of her shift, tugging the material down to reveal her perky tits. His mouth went dry at the pink nipples staring at him, with a lack of control, he wrapped his lips around one sucking hard. She yelped and gave his hair a tug that told him to dial back. Muttering an apology, he began to lick around the tight bud, using his fingers to give attention to the other all while still grinding against her core.

He nips and sucks, soothing the ache with his tongue, doing the action over and over again until he switches and repeats it on her other breast. Her back bowed as he continued his ministrations, soft pants pushing through parted lips. His hands find the ties of her small clothes and with less struggle than all her other clothes, he takes them off with ease. All the romance novels he had read in the past flash through his mind as he cups her breast in one hand and with the other slides it between her legs.

His fingers slip through slick and he is shocked at the amount that coats her entrance. Sitting back on his haunches, he is breathing hard, broad chest puffing up and down as he takes in the red curls that cover her mound, a shade darker than the hair on her head. Sansa is bright pink as she stares at him. Her lower lip is pulled between her teeth, a bashful look on her face. He thought she couldn't get any more beautiful at this moment but he has been proven wrong once again. With the back of her thighs resting atop his, he uses his thumbs to spread her folds open for him, analyzing what he has never seen before in his life.

He let out a haggard breath as if he had just had a hard training session. She is rosy pink here and he is amazed at the wetness that leaks from her. Using two fingers he begins to slide it through the slick and brings it to his lips. He sucks her essence off of them and groans at how sweet she tastes.

"I did this to you, little bird? I made you this wet?" His voice is low and guttural.

She nodded, the color in her cheeks enhancing. When he began to explore and found a spot right below her curls, she let out a high-pitched moan and covered her mouth. "That feels good?" He asked, repeating the motion.

"Yes!" He began to circle the hard bud with his thumb, his eyes becoming hooded as he watched her writhe beneath him. He is unprepared for her to sit up, frantic breaths escaping her as she begins to tug at the laces of his breeches. He jolts at her touch, his hands trembling as they hover over hers. He is entranced by her deft fingers, unlike him, she seems to be quite experienced in the art of laces. In a matter of moments, she is grabbing the hem of his breeches and tugging at them. He understands what she wants and they work together to rid him of them. He is completely bare without them and gulps hard when she rips her shift over her head tossing it to the ground. Now, they are both bare to one another.

"I need you, Sandor. I can't wait any longer," she moaned, taking his jaw in her hands and pulling his lips to hers.

His lower body slots between hers, elbows darting out to brace himself over her so he doesn't crush her. He pulls away from her lips, putting his hand on her cheek, and forced her to stare into his gaze. He sees all the desire that she has for him and his heart skips a beat. She truly wants him. There is no hesitation in her eyes and he resumes kissing her with the notion that she loves him. For a moment that seems like a lifetime, they lazily move their lips together, until all they can feel is one another.

Her naked thighs rub over his bare sides and he shudders at the sensation it ignites inside of him. Her skin is so smooth, heaven to touch, and rivaling his warmth. His cock throbs where it rests between them, she moans at the feeling, and he rocks into her, dragging his weighty arousal against her stomach. Their lips begin to move hungrily against each other, her arms drape around his shoulders pulling him closer, and Sandor feels the final thread of his control snap.

Reaching between their bodies he fists his cock and aligns it with her entrance. They are both panting into the small space between their lips and his eyes find hers to ensure this is what she wants.

" _Please_ ," she whispered and Sandor is helpless to their desires.

He slowly pushed past the tight ring of her opening, feeling her stretching to accommodate his girth and length. Her nails dug into his back, breaking the skin, he let out a soft growl at the pain but knew he was hurting her and it was only right that she hurt him in return. With a slow roll of his pelvis, he began to shallowly thrust inside her tight channel. Only pressing in a couple of inches and drawing back out. The feeling of finally being inside of her is almost too much to handle and he swears he is already about to find his release. Her velvety walls wrapped around every inch of him, dragging back and forth like a vice grip that feels way too good.

"Oh god, Sandor," she sobbed and he instantly stopped all movement. He was shaking as he found his control once more.

"Am I hurting you?" He stammered, forcing his body to relax so he didn't start pumping away even though she was no doubt in pain.

"You're big," she whimpered and clawed desperately at his back.

"I'll stop," he said, about to move out of her until her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

"No!" He rears back slightly to see her cherry-colored cheeks and an embarrassed expression on her face. "I want you. It's just a little painful."

"I'll keep going slow." He smoothed her sweaty hair away from her forehead.

She shook her head from side to side, pressing her heels into him and rolling her hips upwards. "Just take me," she said breathily.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward, his cock meeting resistance, and on a shaky breath, he speared past the barrier. It is overwhelming-a punch straight to the gut with her walls fluttering around his intrusion, gripping and releasing him to the point he sees stars. He drops his forehead over hers, barely catching himself. She continues to whimper with his invasion. He knows it must be extremely painful for her and hates the fact that he is the only one feeling immense pleasure with this coupling. Her legs are shaking where they cradle his hips. With tenderness, he didn't know he possessed he began to press kisses all over her face, over her eyes that are scrunched together and to her jaw. He nuzzles his face into the side of her neck and gently smoothes her hair back.

"I'm sorry, little bird."

She shook her head almost furiously. "Don't be. I just need to adjust."

Sandor remembers the way she writhed with passion when he touched her clit, a word that came back to mind once he thought of the romances he had previously read. Bracing himself on one elbow, he gingerly rubbed her in steady circles. Her eyes flew open and looked at him with a mix of shock and awe. As her muscles began to relax, he can feel himself slipping deeper into her. He bites down a moan, continuing to flick and rub her where she feels the most pleasure. A hungry look appears in her eyes and her back arches into his chest, lodging his cock even farther inside of her. This time, he lets out a helpless whimper, his face flushing in heat. It was a pathetic sound but she merely smiles.

"Fuck, Sansa, don't look at me like that," he growled.

"Like what?" She said acting innocent as ever.

"Like you wouldn't mind if I devoured your body and soul in this very moment," he snapped and began to rock into her, long lazy strokes that made him grunt like a mad man.

"S-Sandor, that feels good," she moaned, her head falling back allowing him to nip and suck at her pulse point.

Bracketing his hands by her head, he pushed some of his weight off of her and slowly pulled out till only the tip was inside of her and sunk back into her with the same measured pace. Her walls sucked him back in eagerly that he let out a sound that was more beast than human. Sandor slowly began to speed up his thrusts, his heart pounding to the point he felt like it was going to burst.

She was way too tight. As much as he tried to be gentle, he couldn't fight the need to dominate her. He slammed into her and she began to chant his name as he drove deeper and deeper into her willing body. Her lips claimed his, her kisses long and deep making him dizzy. He does a particularly violent thrust and she moans into his mouth. He can't get enough of her, feeding off of the sounds she make, her pleasure only spurs him on and makes him that much more desperate to never leave her body.

The love he feels for her is bubbling over, tugging at his heart, and making his stomach clench with the knowledge that he would do anything for her no matter what it may be. She feels likes she was meant for him and he would cut another man down if they dared to take her from him. He would fight till his last breath to keep her safe, to keep their children safe. His hips stutter at the thought of a pregnant Sansa, belly full with his child. Sandor had never been one to want children until he found that Sansa loved him for who he was and not just what he looked like on the outside.

_Gods, he wanted to give her a child._

_Gods, he wanted to raise a beautiful baby girl or baby boy or perhaps both and see them thrive._

"I love you," he groaned helplessly grasping at the back of her thighs and thrusting harder into her.

Her walls clamped down on him, head falling back, a moan that was sure to wake the entirety of Winterfell escaped her lips. The sight almost causes him to lose himself, she continues to moan and shift under him. He changes the angle of his thrusts and groans, dropping his head on her shoulder. His thrusts become erratic, rotating his hips, relishing the way she held fast to him, and suddenly a flash of white light shot behind his eyes and his release crashed violently over him. He let out a series of animalistic grunts into the side of her neck, his cock pulsing inside of her until he is completely spent.

Her arms wind around his neck, both of them panting as they try to even out their breaths. With one last kiss pressed to her cheek, he pulls out of her on a groan hearing her soft sigh in return. Lying on his back, Sansa snuggled into his side, and he pulled her into him, wrapping his muscular arm around her.

"Wow," Sansa laughed and pressed her face into his neck.

He laughed as well and nodded. "Yeah, wow."

"I love you, Sandor," she murmured placing a kiss to his neck.

"I love you too, little bird."

The two of them were pulled asleep due to exhaustion only moments later. Sandor dreamed of Sansa holding two small children in her arms and for once in his life, he felt at peace.

∞

**EPILOGUE**

The sun beats down on Sansa's fair skin. She ignores the heat watching as her daughter and son crawl over Sandor, all of them erupting in laughter. She rubs her belly absentmindedly, their third child not too far off from being due. Her daughter and son were twins. It was a miracle that she survived the birthing process but Sandor had been by her side, nursing her back to health, and ensuring that while she was out of commission that both babies were being taken care of.

The people of Clegane Keep were kind and warm-hearted, accepting Sansa and Sandor in with open arms. They were eager to have Sandor be lord and he proved to them that he was capable of being an amazing leader. When the twins made their arrival, all the people of the town had been there to help Sandor with whatever he needed. Thankfully, Sansa pushed through and the twins stayed strong and healthy even without their mother.

Their daughter Kira was born with a full head of black hair with big blue eyes and their son Killian had been born with glorious red hair and grey eyes. They looked like complete opposites but as time went on they acted identically. The twins were inseparable, practically sharing one heartbeat, one soul, and one mind. Now at the tender age of six, they were full of energy and luckily Sandor's energy matched their own. They were eager to learn the art of the sword and Sandor was just as eager to teach them. Both Kira and Killian also enjoyed sewing, cooking, and doing household chores to take the burden off of Sansa.

Sansa couldn't be more thankful for the family she had. Sandor and Sansa couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other and their love had only grown with the passing years.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Sandor lifted his gaze to hers, and a vibrant smile appeared on his face. Her children called out her name, inviting her to play, giggling, and tackling Sandor to the ground. Sansa smiled at all of them and with sure steps, she moved towards her family.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> XOXO


End file.
